Sideways
by Shadenight123
Summary: What if the reason behind every mad criminal plot thing was but a test? A test for something far greater and dangerous? Kim Possible finds her reality shattered, and Ron becomes the protagonist of a fight against the Alien Menace by the forces of X-com...and Kim's world changes. Roncentric-No pairings-Massive Crossover with Space Menaces! I Regret Nothing!
1. Sergeant Ronald

Sideways

_Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable became friends at Kindergarten. They both grew out of their respective shells in different times, in different ways, but did so together. They always were together. However, what if, sideways, Ron wasn't just going to eat nachos, or on holidays with his family? What if, instead, he had become a part of something far bigger than him or Kim Possible could ever imagine? And what if everything suddenly came crashing together? _

_Can their reality ever go back to normal, now that the things kept in the backstage are coming out in the front?_

_**Shadenight123: I regret nothing. I personally give the fault (Jokingly) to Zombie Boy and his Doppler Effect. That and the fact that Prototype 2, Spec Ops the Line and X-com enemy unknown blended together. Plus many other things that will come into play later on. So…yeah, mass crossover in KP universe. Focusing on the shattering of reality as we were used to seeing in their cartoon…(The mention of Spec Ops the line will become evident as time goes by)**_

It was raining. It was cold. Shivers ran down his skin as he pushed the hood far more over his head. The wind found ways to still harass his cheeks, making his teeth chatter. It had to be below zero degrees, it had to. The boy with blond hair was quiet in his walk. It was a determined walk, never mind the teen was doing so along the catwalk of a nearby building. He had a job to do.

Silently his hands found the ledger of the window below. His feet held his entire weight, as he slowly opened the window. Quietly, he back flipped inside, using his hands as a pivoting point. The window was closed without a hitch or a noise.

In the eerily silence of the room in which the teen had entered, a light green glow slowly illuminated the surroundings.

The room had white walls, and a monitor was softly beeping to the rhythm of an erratic heart. It was a hospital room, and the patient seemed to be hooked to a breathing machine, in a coma. The eyes were closed, and he looked deathly pale.

The green glow came from an ignited hand. The ignited hand of a raven haired and pale skinned woman clad in a black and green outfit. She was eying with a quiet look of disdain and ill-concealed hatred at the teen.

"You're late." She hissed the words as an accusation, and the teen flinched. She was right, obviously, but he couldn't say it out loud. "Can't expect much from you still, can I?"

He looked hurt. At least, he thought he was giving off his hurt face, because the woman recoiled for a moment. Like she had been visibly hit, she lowered her gaze to the side.

"He was awake five minutes ago. You missed his birthday." She commented, snappily. Now she had really hurt him. She could see it in his eyes, in his hands clenching into fists and trembling. The hoodie was white, on the back stood the emblazoned symbols of a sect long forgotten by time. Yet it did not matter, the teen was a teen and the man was the man.

The man was important, and he knew it, he knew he should have been there but he hadn't managed in time. All because of that fucking tracker chip.

"I'm sorry." He whispered back. He was far worse than sorry: he was grieving. Yet it wouldn't bring him back. It wouldn't bring anyone back. Crying doesn't bring back the dead.

"Sorry doesn't cut it." The woman hissed back promptly, "What was it? What's the excuse this time around?"

There she went again. He was sure, had this been a normal conversation, in a normal café, that he would consider her jealous. Yet he also knew this wasn't a normal conversation, they weren't in a café and she wasn't jealous. She was furious, yes, because once more, him being him, he had been late to deliver his promise.

Yet he had promised, hadn't he?

"There was…" He slowly moistened his lips with a light darting of his tongue. What could he say? That the rain made it difficult to jump from building to building? That he had slipped? That he had encountered someone he knew and stopped to chat? That his parents had kept him at home for a long time? "Traffic."

"Traffic." The woman whispered back, growling slightly. "Don't fuck with me. You know better. So it was the princess, wasn't it?"

He knew she'd get to her eventually. He just hoped his brain could find some sort of smarter way to calm her down, to calm down Shego.

"It wasn't Kim's fault." He retorted. It was just her overly paranoid persona and the fact that he was too good of an actor. Playing dumb earned him a nice leash and a fancy collar. Maybe he should have played at least a little bit the smart part.

"No? You know what? Next time you come here waiting for two hours for him to wake up and, when he does, hear him utter a couple of words about where Ron is and why he isn't here." She hissed, taking a step forward, to face the teen, "Be late again, be damn late even for a single second again and I swear to god I'll hit you with the most scorching ball of plasma I can manage."

He didn't reply. The murderous look in Shego's eyes was there, but he too had a look on him: it wasn't murderous, as much as it was that of the guilty. The woman had all the right to be angry at him, and he knew it. He knew this was important, and he had no excuses for it. He knew he had hurt him again, just like he had hurt her. Yet he couldn't keep this up.

"I know. I'm sorry." He whispered, casting a glance towards the bed and the figure that was resting within its premises.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Ron." Shego snarled, "I want more than empty words."

He winced, closing his eyes for a moment. He knew that eventually he'd have to choose. He just didn't want it to be right there and then.

"What is it?" He asked. Whatever it was, he hoped it wasn't the outing. He could live without having a solar plexus, or without the collarbone. Maybe he could live also without half of his ribs, but he didn't know if he'd survive being ousted.

"Break up with the princess." Shego muttered, "I know why you're late, and I don't like it Ron." Her tone turned softer, her eyes too cast a worried glance over the teen's features.

He was about to protest, he was about to open his mouth and say that he couldn't, because it would ruin everything, everything they had worked hard to achieve, but Shego silenced him. Her hand gripped his mouth and shut it tightly.

"He was there for you always." She hissed, "Why can't you be here for him when he needs you?"

He tensed, why those words? Those guilt laced words that managed to make him feel like the most miserable man in the world? Maybe because they were truthful, after all.

"I…I can't…He wouldn't want me to break my cover." He replied, he knew it was a bad line, from a cheesy film, but he hoped, he damn hoped it would work.

"Never break from cover," she murmured, and Ron saw the look in the girl's eyes filling with fond memories. "He was an asshole, wasn't he?"

"The one and only," he chuckled back, but it came out wrong. It came out grim and sad. "I'm sorry."

"I know." Shego replied, shaking her head, "It's just…the day. I hate this day."

It was the day that the meteorite crashed on earth. It was the day that Shego and her brothers discovered the mineral within it. It was the day that he witnessed the fall of his friend and the rise of a group of heroes.

"Is there any progress?" He had to ask, but he knew the answer. Had there been a progress, then he would have known. He would have been there. He would have funded the thing with his own trust funds had there been one. But there wasn't. There was nothing to help him. To help the man, the one to whom he owned everything.

"No." The raven haired woman replied softly, "There's never any progress."

"Drakken…" He started, but a low growl was all it took to keep him quiet.

Shego paced the room silently, fuming for a moment. Her hands began to give way to small amounts of plasma, lighting the room up.

"He offered to clone him." Shego murmured, "I broke half of his bones and left him there."

Ron snickered, quietly.

"Wasn't one of his dreams a clone army? To take over the world for nerds and geeks?"

Shego smiled faintly, before nodding quickly.

"Yeah, and then remove each and every nuclear weapon from all superpowers, and use them to launch a massive war against the enemy from beyond the veil of space and time, for…" her voice was a bit bubbly, albeit still in a low tone, like she was afraid of waking up the sleeping man.

"For in the final hour, all must bow to the one true Kangaroo leader." He finished the sentence with a grave voice. The one that seemed like the imitation of the Warcraft Three Lich King, but he too couldn't help the snicker turning into a low chuckle.

"Even like that he cheers us up, doesn't he?" Shego murmured, looking once more to the prone figure in the hospital bed. Sadness once more interlaced with her words, as she let out a small sigh.

"Tomorrow we're back to being enemies, but tonight, we're friends, right?" He queried, but he already knew the answer. He always knew the answer to that question.

"We could always be friends…if you dropped the princess."

He didn't even flinch when she tried once more that approach. He simply shook his head, and whispered back.

"Bradford's serious with her." He muttered back, "He wants her in the program."

Shego's hand curled into fists, as she turned to listen to slow and deliberately noisy steps coming from the hallway. He listened to the noise too. He knew what that noise was, after all.

He knew also that the noise was coming from a woman, because he knew that woman very well, just like Shego did too.

That was why neither of the two tried to hide, when the door opened.

"Mercer," Shego growled, "visitors hours are over: only family can stay."

The woman had short, brown, spiked hair, while her eyes were silver blue. She wore a grey hoodie with a grey and black striped shirt underneath. She also wore a short denim skirt with a pair of black tights and a pair of red sneakers. She didn't even appear to have been hit by the light drizzle that had seemed to be consuming the city.

"Shego," he warned quietly, "We're all family in here."

The raven haired woman merely gave back to Ron a heated glare. "You know what she suggested."

It was a statement, not a question or an accusation. It was still something that made her unwelcomed, at least in the eyes of the woman.

"I suggested a way out for him," Dana whispered, "Blacklight is…"

"A fake and you know it. Hell, New York is… -was- proof enough, before it was obliterated." Shego's reply was only met with a cold gaze of indifference from Dana, who replied.

"Alex used bloodtox, and it worked. The infection was controlled and removed."

"Still three millions deaths, because of a broken vial...would you risk it for him?" Shego's word had barely left her throat that she had raised her right hand, to silence the other woman, "No, you're right. I'd do it too…but no. He wouldn't want that."

The Kimmunicator sprung to life for a second, beeping erratically and wheezing within the teen's jacket, and the world stilled for a second.

"Ron? You there?" A half-asleep Kim queried, albeit the communicator hadn't been taken out of the jacket.

"zzz…nacho…" He mumbled, his voice mockingly imitating what he'd sound like when he was asleep.

"Listen, I know it's late and all…but we have a situation with Dementor in Russia. Wade called in a favor for a passage, I'm coming around in five minutes: time to get dressed." The Kimmunicator beeped once more, and then Shego growled.

"I'm sorry." He whispered backing away from the furious woman, while heading towards the window, "I don't know if I'll get there in five minutes…"

"Plead somnambulism," Dana suggested, as he waved at the teen leaving. "He'll never get back to Middleton in five minutes," she added in a low murmur to Shego.

"He's at fault," the raven haired woman replied, "He should have dropped the princess, like I asked him to do, repeatedly."

Dana merely rolled her eyes, before turning to leave.

In the silence of the room, the faint beeps of the heart machine grew up of a single digit. Yet nothing changed.

Ron Stoppable dashed through the catwalks, jumping from roof to roof while the rain messed his hair. He knew it was a lost cause to try and get back to Middleton within five minutes. There was just no way to do that, but it didn't stop him from trying.

_Until you die, never stop trying. _The words echoed in his head, as he bit his lower lip while grabbing with his right hand a rusty metal eave and pulling himself upwards. The movement was fluid and done with ease, yet the building had to be old, because it creaked after Ron's effort.

He didn't stop to look back. His mind was in the gutters, literally trying to come up with a good excuse as to why he was not home in the middle of the night, or why he had feigned being asleep. There was no way Kim would let a lie go without triple checking it.

_Hours later._

"You could have told me you were sleeping at a friend in Go City," Kim commented, looking over Ron's haunted face. "You alright?" She asked, worry in her voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine…what's the sitch?" He replied, his eyes looking to the pilot of the Blackhawk who was giving them the 'passage' within the Russian border.

"Professor Dementor was sighted in Russia, acquiring illegal and highly unstable weaponry from the 'gray market'." Wade piped in through the Kimmunicator.

"Gray market?" Kim queried. "Isn't it supposed to be the black market?"

Thankfully, neither Wade nor Kim realized that he had been having a slight panic attack. The gray market? Dementor had been given the codes for the gray market? Just who, sane of his mind, would have given an evil mastermind the codes for alien technology?

Ron didn't know. He frankly did not know. What he knew was that Kim could not be introduced to the project, not yet. He had to connect to Bradford, in some way. It was then that something caught his eyes, hanging quietly from the Blackhawk's pilot's seat. It was nothing more than a small pentagon.

Yet that seemed to ease him down considerably, considering how it stood with the point downwards. It was obvious. This wasn't really a mission to stop Dementor…it was the test.

His heart calmed down, as his ears finally went back to hearing what Kim and Wade were saying.

"I'm telling you Kim, it's the gray market he's going at."

"And I'm pretty sure it's the black market." She replied. She had never been one to be proved wrong. Ron shook slowly his head, clearing it. Kim never knew the meaning of the words loss, mistake or wrong.

"Kim, Wade's right." He spoke clearly. He was thankful that Rufus wasn't with him, because otherwise he'd be forced to leave him on the chopper.

It was at that moment that the pilot of the chopper decided to make his own voice known.

"You know! I never thanked you for saving my m…"

"And how would you know?" Kim snapped back. There she went. He knew she'd go defensive the moment anything came close to menacing her world. It was one of the reasons she hadn't been introduced to the program sooner: possible risk of nerve shattering traumas.

That and many didn't even get a whiff of the program until it was too late.

"I can't tell you." He replied quietly. If the pilot had butted in on the conversation, then it didn't take a genius to understand that she was going in solo for this.

Ron hoped vividly it was sectoids. He was pretty certain Kim could manage one or two plasma shooting sectoids. He'd barge in on the Mutons however. Thin men were a bit of a stretch, but he knew she could do it. Mutons were a different story however.

Never, ever, go unprepared against a Muton…and a Chrysalid…may god have mercy on you.

"So, you don't know," Kim retorted. "Or you're hiding something." He snorted. It took the perception of a brick wall to understand that. Heck, even a completely asleep Rufus could have pointed that out.

"Did you just…snort at me?" She asked, shocked and perplexed.

Wade was silent, but Ron knew he was listening on the conversation, so why not throw the boy the bait?

"I am watchful. I am confident. Vigilo. Confido. Kim…I'm sorry," he murmured, "but you're on your own."

Then he stood up, grabbing the parachute from the side and hooking the grapple with the metal bar that stood atop his head. He prepared himself for launch, as a shocked Kim looked at him.

"Ron? You're starting to scare me." She exclaimed, "If this is some sort of Moodulator thing, we can solve this, you know?"

He shook his head once more, looking at the watch on his left wrist.

"Sergeant Ronald Stoppable, support class, enters the fray at current coordinates." Then, he threw himself out of the chopper.

On second thoughts, he could have avoided all of that. He should have kept quiet all the way. Yet that day…he hated that day. It never made him able to think properly. Now he had said far more than what he should have. He was sure the commander would close an eye for this.

At least, he hoped that would be the case.

He jumped down, letting the wind howl in his ears as his vision grew slightly blurry from the speed of the descent. Silently, his eyes focused on the scenery beneath him that was assuming far more defined forms. Buildings made of old brick walls, a disused railway system, nothing more than the suburbs where homeless people tended to live in Russia. Yet, in the middle of all that, there were alien life forms moving around.

His watch beeped, twice, before a familiar voice echoed into his ears.

"Sergeant Stoppable, it's been a long time," Bradford buzzed, "You are clear to go. Assist team Alpha in the abduction mission. We have satellite coverage over your position: you are inbound for location in two minutes."

He back flipped in the air, before opening wide his arms and legs, and finally opening up his parachute at the correct height for a silent glide down.

"Skyranger is already deployed," Bradford piped in, "Team's made of rookies and a veteran."

"Devil dog?" Ron queried, only to receive a far rougher voice in the ear as a reply.

"You'd be wrong Stoppable! It's good old Road Block here."

He sighed in relief. 'Road Block', sergeant of heavy class, was a known name. The rookies were in safe hands.

"Bradford, got to ask: why is our 'Chicken' Stoppable here?" The gruff voice belonged to an equally gruff looking man of at least two meters of height. Ripped muscles emerged from the dyed black armor, while in his hands he held a heavy laser gun. His hair was buzzed short, and a scar over his left eye had luckily avoided taking the ocular appendage together with the eyebrow. Not that it would have stopped Road Block. He was the one who did the stopping.

"I'm not Chicken anymore!" Ron snapped back in the com-link of the watch, "Is there any armor for me at land zone?"

"We got a Rookie one: it'll feel like good old times, won't it?" The man snarled back with a deep chuckle, "Now move your ass Ronald! We're freezing waiting for your skinny behind!"

Ron merely narrowed his eyes, before letting go of the parachute's safety and free falling the remaining meters. He landed upon a metallic chopper, of strange size, width and length, and from there he swiftly jumped down again, straight on the shoulders of Road Block.

Then, among the scared and startled rookies, he back flipped from the man's shoulders to the ground, sporting a cheesy grin.

"Poor little Blocky got poop in his pants?"

"This, guys, is what I hope you might never become," Road Block rolled his eyes pointing at Stoppable, "Sometimes, I think death is preferable to being like Stoppable here."

"Why sir?" A rookie girl spoke in a pipsqueak voice. She had long blond hair tied in a ponytail, while the assault rifle seemed to be uncomfortable within her arms. She had clear European origins, probably Greek.

"Squaddie Greta: this is Sergeant 'Chicken' Stoppable, the only man known to have panicked and defeated a Muton nevertheless…the nickname stuck because he ran away half of the time though…" As Road Block explained, Ron swapped his clothes for the safety of the X-Com armor.

"And I'm still alive. Can't go around flinging bazookas every time something moves like you, right?"

"There is a difference between playing it safe and being a Chicken." Road Block explained, "Anyway, I'm in command for the mission…or does the Sergeant wants the honor?"

Bradford piped in immediately, bringing the Rookies to attention in a second, while Road Block and Ron merely looked at each other with a little snicker.

"Sergeant Road Block's in charge. There are no civilians in the area. Miss Possible has been baited." A sour look passed over Ron's face for a moment, "And you are there to see how she acts against the alien menace while swiping away the Sectoids you encounter. Do avoid giving away your position."

"And you put Road Block in charge?" Ron muttered, "Why not Devil Dog or Doc? Lockdown?"

"They're dead, Smokes." This time Road Block used his real nickname, and this time, Ron knew he was being serious.

"Oh," Stoppable whispered, "That's why we're pushing through with Kim, right?"

"Got no choice. We're recruiting anyone and anything. Shivs are barely making the cut by now," Road Block spoke again, "Anyway! Let me present our friendly batch of rookies!" Road Block spoke with a light cheerful tone, and then pointed his finger at the European girl.

"This darling here with blond hair and pretty blue eyes is Greta, she's Greek and top of the class in athletics...she's single and twenty-four years old." The burly man whispered in a mocking tone, so that everyone could actually hear him, "And she's got a thing for older, gruff men."

The woman rolled her eyes, but gave a nod of recognition to Ron.  
"This here is Edward," Road Block explained again, pointing at a red haired man with pale skin and freckles on his face. His eyes were a charming light green color, and he seemed to sport the broadest chest in the squad…barring Road Block, but the man wasn't normal to begin with.

"He's Scottish, but we convinced him to ditch the battle gown."

"It's called a Kilt," the man snapped back, "and I'm proud to be part of X-com project sir."

"Yeah, he's a bit of an ass-licker, but he's going to grow out of that soon enough." Edward said nothing, instead choosing to merely show his distaste in the form of an angry scowl.

"This big boy here is John Smith, the most common name in the entire frigging America," Road Block spoke once more, pointing at a skin colored black man, with dark brown eyes, who seemed to be confidently holding his rifle with ease.

"A pleasure to meet you Sarge!" The man replied with a broad grin, as Ron merely nodded.

"Finally we got our good little Asian girl, Li Liu," Road Block added, finishing his 'tour' of the rookie squad with a strangely blond haired and really dark tanned Chinese girl, "She's some sort of…I don't know the word, fashion-girl? Anyway it's in vogue in Japan, not around here," the heavy class man shrugged.

"Ganguro, it's called Ganguro, sir!" The Chinese woman replied hotly, only for Stoppable to stop for a second and take in a deep breath.

"Canguro…Kangaroo…everywhere," he chuckled, "I say she survives this mission, Road Block," he added, "Kangaroo and all, you remember?"

"Not you too," Road Block replied rolling his eyes, "Trust me, I'm starting to think that they're going mad at the ant farm."

"Huh?" He raised his eyebrow, looking with perplexity at the bigger man, "What's this and headquarters?"

The buzzed short haired man sported a cheeky grin, before whispering.

"Been a while since you spoke to Dr. Vahlen, huh?"

Ron nodded, but then the watch beeped again, and everyone, this time, stood to attention.

"If you're finished catching up, I suggest you get your asses moving! We have Possible engaging Dementor's goons at the predetermined location, and Sectoids are on the move-out."

"We're going now Bradford! Keep your whisky ready: we're going to be baptizing a new recruit soon enough!" And then, the six soldiers descended into quiet silence.

_-Move, take cover, and watch before moving again-_

_-Flank the right side of the buildings-_

_-Move together, but keep distance to avoid grenades-_

_-Careful at corners-_

_-All clear in the building-_

_-Heavy Positioned-_

_-Guarding Heavy-_

_-Noise coming from north-east sector-_

_-Moving out-_

_-Smokes ready to engage-_

_-Edward, you got movement coming your way-_

_-Got it Road Block, Greta cover me-_

_-I'm at your six, Edward-_

Quiet murmurs became buzzed as commands straight into the ears of the soldiers, as the compact group made its way through the not so silent any longer streets. They were herding the Sectoids…not that the 'gray men' thought anything about it.

The sky was barely starting to lighten up, when first contact was established.

Squaddie Edward held his rifle steady, as he came face to face with a grey skinned, wide amber eyed alien with an overly pulsing with light belly. The shots of the rifle pierced through the thick grey skin, as the wounded creature let out a startled cry. Li Liu shot soon afterwards, giving the creature the last push to embrace death.

Edward breathed quietly, his hands tightly gripping upon the assault rifle he had been issued with. This was good. He had done well. Everything was going to be fine now.

_-MOVE TO COVER-_

Edward barely registered the order, as Li Liu instead bolted out of there, into the nearby broken window of the brick building. A small pulsating green metallic ball came into view, landing softly at Edward's feet.

The soldier saw the ball, and the next moment a scorching wave of plasma hit him as his skin separated from his body. The Scottish soldier fell on the ground, the entirety of his body covered in third degrees burns or worse.

Li Liu's back was pressed against the brick wall of the building. From outside, she could hear the heavy steps of a clearly bigger than normal alien.

The noises reached clearly into Bradford's pad, and from there were redirected to the rest of the squad.

_-Squaddie Edward has died-_

"Screw the world," Ron whispered, "It's a Muton."

"Oh shit just got real," Road Block retorted, his Bazooka suddenly on his shoulder, "You got the smokes in that suit?"

"I got them on my person, always." The teen replied, holding a small red sphere within his hand, "Let's hope Greta and John can herd better."

"You never know…"

With that, the two sergeants moved quickly through the unused brick buildings, quietly trying to reach for the last known position of Edward, from where the silent sobs of Li Liu were coming too. The girl was probably panicking right now. And who wouldn't panic at the sight of a Muton? Those things were nasty. When they came in groups it was even…

"Shit." Ron cussed, as the scene came into view. Li Liu was surrounded by Mutons.

Three of them. Three damn monsters in sickly green armor with muscles the size that made Armstrong look like the nerdy kid at school, wielding plasma guns that fired things worse than what Rambo could. Yet as they stood there, surrounding the sobbing woman, Road Block aimed with care and silence at the center of the three beasts.

"Morality check: Do I take the shot?" He asked quietly.

"Death on impact assured?" Ron whispered quietly, as he could just see the closest Muton to the woman move a bit closer, sniffing the hair out of the girl. Probably the make-up did distract the beast a bit. Probably.

"They won't be walking out of it."

"Go with it then…I'll throw a grenade together with it," Ron swallowed the nervousness in the pits of his stomach, as the telltale sign of the missile being launched caught the attention of the Mutons, and of the scared woman.

She had thought they'd make a distraction and bait her out. Hadn't the sergeant said that 'Kangaroo' was something lucky? Then why was the grenade nearing her too? Wasn't she a…hero?

Both explosions tore down side of the brick walls, the building dangerously menacing to fall down as bits and pieces of alien equipment flew in the air together with exploding plasma rifles and the corpse of Li Liu. Chunks of smoldering flesh of various types and colors splattered all around the area, and Ron merely repressed a shudder.

"Kangaroo." He muttered, gritting his teeth as he stood back up, holding his rifle steadily.

"Kangaroo." Road Block muttered.

_-Squaddie Li Liu has died-_

Anything was granted. Everything was possible. As long as the aliens' deaths outnumbered theirs, friendly fire was permitted.

Li Liu would be known to have died in the line of duty, a small pension for her family would be set apart, just like for Squaddie Edward, and nobody would ask just who or why she had died.

That…that was X-com procedure.

_And Kim Possible would soon be entered into it…_


	2. AI, Commander

Sideways 2

Kim Possible was having a bad day. Tomorrow, there was going to be a test on history. Today, Ron had decided to act whacko, Dementor had decided to get his hands on some ultra-advanced technology, and she was alone fighting overpowered with steroids henchmen of said mad man.

Drakken, at least, wouldn't scoop so low as to sacrifice his own henchmen to a life filled with forceful blood transfusion. The after-effects of the battle cocktail Dementor's guys had to ingurgitate as per part of their contract surely made them strong, but it also sent their kidneys to hell and beyond.

What was truly worse, however, was what Wade had said mere minutes before. Vigilo and Confido did not appear anywhere on the net. Well, they did appear, as the Latin translation of the English words 'I am vigilant. I am confident.' That, however, did not help explain Ron's actions following the Gray market being mentioned.

The red haired cheerleader aptly twisted her entire nimble frame to the side, avoiding a fist that would otherwise certainly break her skull with its strength. She used the man's momentum against him, flinging him against two other charging goons, sending all three of them to sprawl on the ground.

Dementor merely looked at the fight with a half-bored look. He didn't seem to care much about his Goon's eventual demise, but he did push a dark green button on a strange looking greyish tube. The thing began to beep slowly, humming the soft tune as yet another one of his henchmen fell on the ground, a kneecap to the nose determining Kim as the sole winner of the all-out brawl.

She advanced towards Dementor with a cheeky smile, exclaiming.

"You're done for, Dementor! Surrender now and Global Justice will take care of you!"

"Without your sidekick today Kim Possible!?" The mad man merely sneered back, "Did he finally lose his faith in you?"

The girl gritted her teeth lightly, before snarling back.

"That's none of your business! Hand over whatever it is that you acquired illegally!" The order was met with a light chuckle, as the professor smiled, and then, with a small curtsy, replied.

"Of course! Here! Catch it!" And then, Dementor launched the small metallic tube in the air, where it spun and spun until it finally reached the maximum height of the throw. Once there, in mid-air, the thing detonated, releasing a strange and obnoxious green fume, that covered the small square where the fight had gone in for.

The noxious fumes fell quickly, like a fog blanket of greenish origin. Kim tried to hold her breath, but the substance seemingly entered her body through the very pores of her skin, forcing her down on the ground with wracking coughs and fits of pain.

Dementor merely chuckled from his position, before removing from his side a small compact gun, this too charged with bright green energy.

"Kim Possible! Today marks the day you die! Let it be known that Professor Dementor has finally defeated the arch-nemesis of the evil world!" The gun loaded, the energy charging straight through it and humming with a cacophony of different sounds…none of which promising. The coughs and the wracking pain forced Kim Possible to stay on the ground, huddled in a pool of her own saliva and tears. The thought of death had never crossed the young girl's mind.

Suffering, dying…she knew pain, or at least, she thought she had known it when fighting Shego, but this? This was on a completely different level.

This was executing her. She didn't even think Dementor had the balls to do it.

As she lay there, waiting for the shot to come, she began to cry not only in pain, but in fear. She didn't want to die.

The noise of a gun's muzzle firing brought her to close her eyes shut, the controlled burst having come from somewhere behind her.

A low thud accompanied the falling of the man, the man once known as Demenz, and that had then nicknamed himself Dementor. The gun he held in his hand exploded, sending scorching amount of plasma upon his figure and disfiguring him. Kim Possible watched with bleary eyes as two armored figures made their way to her.

One was a pale skinned, blue eyed and blond haired woman, while the other appeared to be a dark skinned man.

"Who…Who…are…cough…you?" Kim managed to cough out, as the woman grabbed her from the side, holding her upwards.

"Ease up. Take deep breaths, let it out of your system," the woman replied in a kind but clearly mechanic English. She probably was foreign.

"Miss Kim Possible? We're Squaddies John and Greta, X-Com project. Are you alright?" The dark skinned soldier asked, holding his assault rifle at shoulder level, pointing around them, like he was expecting something to move up and attack.

The red haired cheerleader merely nodded weakly, still coughing out whatever fluids she could hold in her mouth. Her brain was in haywire, however. The shock had been too great for her to be able to do anything, at least…at least it was over, right?

_-We Have the Baited-_

_-Roger that. Sitrep on Road Block and Smokes?-_

_-Road Block fine and dandy-_

_-Smokes' wishes for a cigar-_

_-You're underage-_

_-Depends on the country!-_

"We have still signals coming from the area: swipe and engage." The voice buzzed into Road Block's ear, as the grumpy man sighed.

"I hate it when Bradford gets all nitpicky."

Ron merely shrugged, before something else buzzed in the comlinks.

_-Baited is under shock and poisoned-_

_-Chrysalid?-_

_-Black?-_

_-Slim-_

_-Alright. Move out and fan. Light up all that moves and isn't of our race.-_

Quietly, Road Block nodded to Smokes, and both made their way towards the other two. Their ears perked for any sound that could possibly indicate the alien menace. As nothing seemed to come in view, the two silently moved to covers, looking at each other's back before proceeding.

Slowly, ever so, they reached for the square where the two Squaddies seemed to have been hunkering down, holding their position near a corner of the square.

_-They're in building-_

_-Got that. Smokes? Your playtime-_

_-Who wants a cocktail? Coming right up!-_

Ron dashed through the street, landing straight next to the two squaddies, his back against the wall and to his right the smashed down door.

Within the floor, two grey sectoids were hovering over a green humanoid like statue that had been stuck to the ground.

"R…Ron?" Kim weakly murmured, her eyes fluttering a bit from the effort of keeping awake. She wasn't feeling very well, but she could swear the man that had arrived and was now near the door wielding an assault rifle was pretty much similar to Ron. Was it, maybe, Ron's dad?

It couldn't be. She was just having blurry eyesight, so it was because of that that she couldn't see very well.

"Hey KP." The Ron look-alike spoke in a really familiar voice. "Don't worry." He added soothingly, "I'll get you out of here."

The grenade was uncorked from his vest, and flung within the building. The explosion generated a cloud of dense red smoke, and without another word, Road Block charged in, his heavy laser starting to fire up.

The dark skinned squaddie jumped through the nearby broken window, flanking the two sectoids as the red smoke hid his features and instead displayed clearly the greyish hues of the aliens.

Within seconds, two sectoids fell on the ground, small explosions following suite.

"Squaddie Greta: kill the eyewitnesses." Ron whispered, pointing at the fainted henchmen that Dementor had used. The woman nodded slowly, standing up with her assault rifle and moving over to the fallen bodies. Shots echoed in the deserted square of the abandoned industrial complex, and Kim closed her eyes.

"_Oh well, honor for all_

_Of the big and the small_

_Well, the taller they stand_

_Well, the harder they fall"_

Ron merely gave a sour look towards Road Block, who returned a cheesy grin, before hoisting the heavy laser on his shoulder. His hand rose towards the sky, signaling the okay.

The next moment, the skyranger descended, and the blond haired teen muttered, while holding Kim by the waist and bringing her closer to the chopper.

"_Oh well, death, it will come_

_As sure as a night_

_We will not run_

_No, we live but to fight"_

"Catchy tune," John Smith commented, as he sat down on the cold metallic ledger, his fingers drumming over his knees.

"Honor for all." Road Block replied, strapping himself to the side of the chopper, "credit song of a _videogame_. Not that it matters: content is important far more than the paper it's wrapped within."

"Don't get philosophical on me, Gunther!" Ron commented with a sigh, "Well, I suppose that after today's mission Greta's going to become our local sniper and our good old John Smith will be our assault."

"You're no fun ruining the surprise," Gunther, 'Road Block', commented.

"What is it sir?" Greta queried, perplexed.

"You got promoted. It's a thing of X-com. Survive first mission killing something, _anything_, and you get your promotion and specialization." Ron explained quietly, "That and you get tested for latent psionic abilities."

"Stop ruining the fun!" Road Block 'pouted', "I'm sure they're going to enjoy being prodded on bending spoons and things like that."

He rolled his eyes at the playful banter of the higher man, before shaking his head.

"Is Miss Possible going to be okay?" Greta queried, eying the sleeping form of the teen heroine, strapped to the side right next to Ron Stoppable.

The blond teen merely sighed back.

"Don't know. We'll see when she wakes up."

Gunther snorted slightly, before jabbing.

"Well, for being a teen heroine. She got down easily."

"Not her fault she has never before sniffed slim men's poison," Ron snapped back, "And I'd have preferred for it to never happen."

"You know Ron, the commander's going to be extremely pissed off at you for having barged in on the operation," Road Block stated, "If you want, I can sic Dr. Shen on the bastard for a while."

"Won't be needed Road," Ron whispered back, "I'll take what happens with pride."

"Is Sergeant Lender still going on with his wacky kidnap the kids and turn them into soldier thing?" John queried, and from there the rest of the discussion became playful banter on how no, there was no such thing as a Sgt. Lender. Or _Slender_ for short.

The Skyranger took little more than four hours to land in Europe, at the heart of the X-com project that was Germany's mountainous border with Russia.

A hidden metallic hatch opened, granting the Skyranger permission to land, and closed atop the chopper's head once it was safely within the earth's bowels.

Personnel ran to assist the wounded, in this case only Kim, and carried her towards the medical bay. Road Block merely went towards the barracks, without saying another word, while John and Greta were asked to follow yet another officer who had 'something important' to speak about with them.

Ron stood there quietly, near the Skyranger's cockpit, waiting for the pilot to come out of there.

A tuft of blond hair, soon followed by a ponytail, emerged from the pilot's helmet. A man with broad shoulders and dark grey eyes hopped out of there, his face displaying an unparalleled grin.

"Good old Ronnie, huh? Coming to the rescue."

"Nathan," the teen replied, "Can you tell me about Doc and the others?"

"Oh," the pilot muttered, a grim and sour look passing over his face, "You can't fault the commander, Ron…it wasn't his fault."

"I want the story, Nathan, not the excuses." Ron whispered back, "They were my friends."

"They were mine too Ron!" The pilot snapped back, before sighing.

"Fine, you want to know? Then I'll tell you." Nathan commented, "We found the alien base on Earth. We prepared a skeleton key, that's what they called it anyway…they were all ready and prepared and…none came out, Ron. They ordered me to pull back, claimed the mission was a failure, and that they'd try again later."

"Why wasn't I called in?" Ron asked, not having learned much more, but dreading the feeling he now had in the pit of his stomach.

"There was no need. They had Shivs with them: should have been enough." Nathan muttered, "They weren't. You should ask their technicians…if you can convince one of them to open up though."

"Dr. Shen said nothing, right?" The Possible's sidekick was now furiously gritting his teeth in ill-repressed anger, as he now had ended up with far more questions than answers.

"He did not." Nathan replied quickly, "But he did say that the Council's man red taped it all. You could try and ask him."

"Yeah, the same one who claims that nachos' cheese is made from baby seals fat? I'd rather take my luck entering the archives at night." Ron retorted, "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Why…" Nathan began to exclaim, and just as he did, the red lights began to flash all around the base, "Did you have to say that?"

_Kim Possible_

The feeling of a cold compress atop her head was the first thing she felt. Accompanying said feeling was also the warmth of a wool blanket, and her back seemed to be resting on a comfortable mattress. At first, she thought she was at home, having been brought back by…Ron. A Ron armed with an assault rifle, in a body-armor while flinging grenades through an empty building.

Dementor had been…shot. As the memory returned to her vividly, her eyes jolted open.

"Well, hello there. Slept well?" A female and distinctively Germanic voice queried right next to her.

"My name is Fraulein Vahlen, you may call me Dr. Vahlen, and I assure you everything is fine." She added quickly, as the red haired teenager stood up swiftly. Kim had merely brought herself upwards that a spasm contracted her lower belly, forcing her to fall back down coughing.

"No, no. That won't do at all," Fraulein drily commented, "You need to relax and take it easy Miss. Possible," she admonished.

"Where…where am I?" she had to ask. She had to know why this wasn't Russia, or Middleton, or hell…where were they? There weren't any windows around them, and the only light came from above, from the usual plastic white neons that are easily found within hospitals.

"X-com headquarters, some miles below the earth's surface," the woman replied, firmly holding a small datapad in front of her. Using her right hand, she began to seemingly trace things upon its surface. "Kimberly Ann Possible, Middleton, teen heroine, blood type AB+, scholarship at Middleton High School, sixteen different type of Kung-fu known, swimming ability on par with the Olympiad champions, GPA stands at the top of the school, a perfect resume, isn't it?" The woman queried, "How does it feel to have lost against a repeatedly defeated in the past opponent?"

"What…What question is that?" The girl retorted, narrowing her eyes, "And…" for a moment, Kim stood still, before realizing that something was, indeed, missing. "Where's the Kimmunicator?"

"It was disassembled to prevent tracking," the scientist moved her hands to a corner of the room where under thick plastic wraps stood the single components of the communicating device invented by Wade.

"Am I…a prisoner?"

"Signs of paranoia," the doctor muttered, "No Miss Possible, you are not a prisoner, or a Hostage. You are our esteemed new trainee."

"A moment." Kim raised both of her hands in the air, before bringing one next to her right temple, "Start from the beginning, okay? I was in Russia, stopping Dementor. How did I end up here, somewhere beneath the Earth's crust, as your damn trainee?"

The woman merely shrugged, before ticking off something within the datapad.

"Potential short memory amnesia…Miss Possible," the doctor began again, taking a small breath, "You have been watched for countless years, ever since your first hero stunt. We have kept our eyes on you just like we still do with countless others. All for a single purpose: to defeat the alien menace."

Kim was eerily quiet for a moment, her breath on hold. Then, she replied soothingly.

"Oh…Alien Menace. Yes. Right…Jar Jar Binks giving problems?" The teenager's fist hit straight on the doctor on the stomach area, sending her to reel on the ground with a scream of pain, before the cheerleader managed to stumble to her feet.

"I need to get out of here," she muttered to herself, before realizing just what she was wearing. A hospital gown, of a light navy blue color, with the words 'Vigilo Confido' etched onto it.

"Vigilo…Confido? Is this what Ron meant?" Hastily, she grabbed the datapad from the prone form of the doctor, and looked at the window opened within the tablet. It actually was the most detailed resume of her life to date, going as far as pointing out, in some situation, the transcript of her words! There was even an average time for being in the bathroom.

Kim Possible was livid as she snapped the datapad in two pieces. She had to get out of there. She had to get out and find where the hell Ron was, or contact Wade. She couldn't repair the communicator alone, but maybe if she could connect to her website from there…It was then that she bit her lip, realizing that maybe snapping in half that datapad wasn't a smart idea.

She quickly moved to the side of the infirmary's door. On one side, she didn't want to go around in a hospital gown, on the other, if this was the lair of some sort of mad scientist, then she didn't want to become a live vivisection. Next to the door, that was in truth a set of metallic walls that could slide laterally, stood a couple of lockers. Flinging them open, the red haired teen gulped down heavily.

There were guns stashed within them.

Now, it wasn't that she had never seen a gun, but…she had never fought against guns. Everyone either came at her with brawling skills, karate moves, kung-fu or something completely out of the line like deadly spinning throttles. Guns? Nobody that she had fought came with guns.

At least, unless these were technologically advanced guns made to paralyze, but she doubted it. Those looked like pretty solid Desert Eagles, and not even of a low caliber. Yet she wasn't an expert in guns, and she knew that if the first thought had been on a whacky mad scientist, now she had to reroute her ideas to some sort of paramilitary freak.

Maybe she had been kidnapped by some Russian ultranationalist?

Still, there was a suit in there that she could wear, albeit it did press her 'twins' against her chest, it was better than going around in a hospital gown.

By the time she was strapped and ready, she realized that the suit, no matter its original size, seemingly had shrunk to reach her own size. Far more than 'elastic' it seemed…adaptive.

"Think about it later," she muttered, eying warily the gun in the locker. With a deep sigh, she shook her head: she'd do without guns.

The door silently slid to open, as another lab coat entered the infirmary. Kim didn't waste a second in flinging him against the wall, before running the hell out of there. A pity, because had she stopped, she'd realize that said lab coat hadn't even been fazed by the attack, and was slowly getting back on his feet.

"I return and this is what I get?" the man snorted, "Blackwatch paid far better than this…wait a moment."

The fallen form of Dr. Vahlen wasn't immediately visible, but when she was indeed seen, the man kneeled next to her, bringing one of his hands at her wrist, to check for pulse.

"Security!" The man snarled, "We have a possible breach!" The yell was soon followed by the man breaking the glass mounted upon one side of the wall, before pushing the red button that would give the alarm in the entirety of the base.

_Ron Stoppable_

"I give the fault to Smokes!" Road Block's yell came at the same time the groans of the rookies in the barracks echoed. After all, they were all wishing to get some sort of nice, comfortable wake up at five in the morning. Not to be jolted out of bed at four, with the sun rising, and all because there was an alarm going on.

"Oh come on! It's just a sentence!" Ron's snappish remark was met with the mechanical voice of the speaker resonating throughout the base.

"Code alert Alpha-Red, security breach in the infirmary confirmed. Dr. Vahlen has been knocked unconscious by the assailant."

"Wasn't Kim in the infirmary?" Ron's question hung in the air for a moment, before Road Block, next to him, moved to the wall by the side of the barracks to use the inner phone.

"Listen here! Zip me in to Glados! It's the Possible girl that escaped!"

A swift beep came back as a reply, before the metallic voice suddenly retorted, this time in a clearly more cheerful way.

"Nevermind. It's just Miss Possible. Escaping. I hate it when they do that."

Ron merely rolled his eyes, before heading to the phone, and taking it from Gunther.

"Glados, can you broadcast my voice?" The blond haired teen queried.

"Affirmative Ronnie. Nice to see you came back. I like it when test sub…when soldiers come back."

"Yeah," Ron drawled, before coughing for a moment to make sure he was on air, "KP, listen to me: everything's fine, okay? Just…if you took a gun, drop it, and then get guided to the mission control room by some clearly nice and dandy soldier. I swear it on Nachos, everything's fine KP."

Road Block whistled, a thing that, considering the connection of the phone was still on, was heard all around the base.

"To swear upon Nacho from the Nacho King? I've got a good little song that goes…"

"Gunther. Stop it or I'm shoving you a grenade where…"

The bickering was interrupted however, as a familiar blue skinned man walked towards the barracks, deliberately wincing when he pushed his weight on his right leg.

"Mad, the woman is mad I tell you," Drakken's rant was interrupted, however, by the sight of Ron, "Oh there you are! Possible's already in the mission control room. She also kind of grabbed a gun by the way."

Ron flinched, before quickly nodding to the professor and heading off in a mad dash. He just hoped she hadn't shot anyone.

"Aren't our guns the new ones with the thumbprint recognition?" Gunther inquired in a low murmur, only for Drakken to start musing over it.

"Indeed they are. This is payback for the right leg."

"Broke it escaping?"

"Nah. When the alarm went off I was carrying a crate. Fell on my damn foot." The professor waved his right hand, as to minimize the event, while at the same time sitting down next to the barrack's chocolate machine. With the lights on, none of the other rookies were actually willing to go back to sleep, and since some were already half dressed, they all decided to begin their daily routines.

"So, why is the leg the one that's hurt?" Gunther wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he kind of liked listening to the blue skinned man's rants.

"It has to do with the new body armor prototype, you see: it rearranges the kinetic energies of incoming bullets and…"

_Kim Possible_

She knew it! Drakken had to be responsible for Ron's strange behavior. Maybe he had collaborated with whatever secret agency Dementor had enraged, and she and Ron had ended up as collaterals. Now she was holding the gun she had gotten from Drakken's hands, because let's face it: evil doctors shouldn't have guns. The man she was currently holding…in custody, because that was clearly 'so not' a hostage situation as more as an 'escape from the evil man's lair' sitch, seemed some sort of perfectly English gentleman.

He was also the only man with a suit in the entire complex, which kind of made him the favorite 'custody' material, because evil doctors usually went with style.

"If you'd kindly let me go," the man muttered, "I might be inclined not to make a mess of this."

"Miss Possible, let Mister Walter go," a man wearing a green sweater with the symbols of the X-com project on the chest raised his right hand, trying a soothing gesture as the name 'Officer Bradford' was emblazoned next to a medal with the emblem of a hawk perched atop a five pointed star.

Wasn't that the American's medal for honor?

"I want answers!" Kim yelled, "Where did you bring Ron?! What the hell is going on here and what the hell are you all snorting to think there's an alien menace going around!?"

"I believe the young Miss is feverish," Walter pointed out, "Bradford, might I suggest strapping future poisoned goons to the beds in the medical bay?"

"Suggestion noted," Bradford muttered, "Miss Possible: we wish you no harm. Please drop the gun for your own safety."

Around the room, paramilitary forces were already beginning to encircle the area, all clad in light blue armors and utilizing strange red-hued pistols.

She was surrounded. She was…

"KP!" The familiar voice that echoed through the corridor near her made her extremely happy for a moment. Ron was fine and he had probably freed himself! Now if Wade managed to track the signal, and get them the hell out of there…

It was when she turned around, that her heart fell to the bottom of her stomach. Ron was wearing one of those suits. He had a pistol strapped to the side of his belt, and for once his trousers weren't even looking like they were about to fall off. If anything, he looked like a professional soldier. Something even Drakken's henchmen couldn't achieve, and something that an evil-Ron aka Zorpox had never been.

"Kim, drop the gun now: the safety measure will shock you if you try and shoot." He commanded. Her fellow friend gave her a command, not a suggestion or a query. It was snappish, it was quick and it was a sort of tone she had never heard him use…ever.

"Ron?" Her voice sounded so lost in that precise moment, that she slowly loosened the hold on the gun. It was more than enough for Walter to spin around in the now more lax lock, disarm the girl and then move nimbly to the side. All the while the man held the gun with two fingers, like he was holding a disgusting thing.

"Bradford, I'm taking it from here," Ron murmured to the green sweater man, just like…just like if he had been familiar with the man. But how could that have been possible? This wasn't something Ron did. His tracker chip always worked, and he was always there…losing his pants alright. Maybe this wasn't Ron?

"Now, now KP," there it was, the toothy grin, "I'm thinking you need to apologize to Doc. Vahlen, and get a moment to breathe in. You're shocked I'm sure, but you just have to listen to me and we'll be fine and dandy, alright?"

The red haired teenager wobbled on her legs, the adrenaline leaving her system all but forcing her to crash down once more. This time, Ron was there. Just like he had been a lot of times before: had he always been that muscular?

"Sergeant Stoppable, get her back to med-bay while we…"

And then the alarms rang once more.

"Alert! Scrambling interceptors! Ufo type 2 located above Dubai."

"Yeah, get her back to med-bay." Another voice added to the chaos that soon was once more the mission control, "We've got a job to do after all!" It was Drakken. A normal voiced non-mad Drakken. A Drakken who took the gun back from Walter without a hitch and the man gave him the gun back! Kim would have wanted to scream at the idiocy of that! He was evil! He was hell-bent on world domination! He couldn't be entrusted with a gun! And if he was there…then where was Shego?

"Green Fury launched. We have video-rep on the situation!" Bradford's roar was met with a cold and metallic voice coming from the speakers.

"Engage dodging protocols, phoenix cannons will require closing in."

"Yes Commander."

"Oh and…Ronald? Go to the council room after you have secured Miss Possible to the med bay's bed."

"Yes sir!" Ron snapped to attention, before hauling a half-asleep and half-awake Kim away from the Mission control room.

"_Serg_…_Sergeant_?" Kim's voice was lost under the cold gaze of Ron. His eyes weren't meant to be cold. He was…he was meant to be a dork, a half-assed man. Well, she loved Ron alright, like a friend. But this? This was big. This was like learning that Club Banana had suddenly been closed down to make room for a Walmart, or a McDonald.

Heck, it was as catastrophic as hearing that Bueno Nacho had suddenly fallen and had been dismantled to make room for…for Vegan Cuisine!

"Sergeant Ronald Stoppable, X-Com Alpha Squad member," Ron whispered back gently, "Kim…there's a lot of things that I'd love to tell you, but I can't. I'm going to get my ass chewed by the commander at present, so I'll tell you afterwards, alright?" The doors of the med-bay opened up once more, and a very livid Dr. Vahlen stood there, a cold pack over a bruise on her stomach. Ron didn't even flinch at the sight of bare skin, something a normal teenager would have instead done. Heck, even Kim had averted her gaze momentarily.

"Ronald, is Miss Possible _placated_ now?" The doctor queried with a sort of bored and a bit septic tone.

"That she is Doc. I hope," the teen replied quietly, before gently pushing Kim on a nearby bed, "Now be a good girl Kimberly, and listen to herr Doctor."

"Stoppable, I am waiting," the voice, cold and metallic, came once more from the audio speaker of the room.

"I'm coming Commander!" The blond haired teen dashed off, leaving behind a slightly groaning Kim and a narrow-eyed doctor, who seemed to be analyzing with scrutiny the back of the red haired teen.

"You broke my Datapad," the woman commented drily, "You do know the amount of data lost because of that?"

"I…I'm sorry," Kim blurted out, before finding herself fighting the need to sleep, and to try and keep her eyes open, "It's just that…I was surprised. I'll pay it back."

"It will be refunded from Sergeant Stoppable's salary. You are his charge after all." The woman replied.

"Okay then," Kim nodded for just a split second, before jerking her head to stare, slack-jawed, at the woman in question, "Wait a moment! What do you mean, I'm _his_ charge!?"

_Ron Stoppable_

"If there's one thing I hate it is people who are late." The mechanical voice drily commented his lone red eye staring ahead.

The council room held a giant screen, with the blue and white rendition of the world, just like the one in the mission control room with the overlook on the satellite coverage. North America and Europe seemed to possess a far wider range in regards with the other countries, but maybe it had something to do with the bias of the original founders of the project.

"I'm not able to transfer myself with bits, like you Hal." Ron retorted drily.

"Maybe researching 'in bits' transferal could work," the AI commented back, coldly.

"Did Glados upload a sarcasm core on you while you weren't looking?" The sergeant queried raising an eyebrow.

"I am an Artificial Intelligence: I am bound to learn everything, even something as frivolous as _sarcasm_."

With that, Ron snorted, as he shook his head before standing to attention, to receive the orders for the following days…

**Author's notes**

**And chapter two is done.**

**Currently, I am planning on adding: Xenomorphs, (Dead Space), Crysis aliens and much more. (Half-Life 1-2 too by the way)**

**A penny for your thoughts?**


	3. Revelations

Sideways 3

"Sergeant Stoppable." The metallic voice of Hal began, "Tell me why you had to actually go against your orders."

"Those…weren't my orders to begin with." Ron replied slowly, wincing as the tone became cold and, well, machine-like. Hal was an Artificial Intelligence, and second in command. However until their commander, their real one in flesh and blood came back, he was in charge.

"Your prerogative number three is: never compromise the brotherhood. How will you explain that to Miss Possible?"

"Well…It's not that we have to keep secrets from friends, or potential recruits," the boy muttered sheepishly, "And anyway, it isn't like she's going to go on and rattle about what we are and what we do…if she fails the exam that is."

"So you would not intervene were she to be failing the exam?" The voice queried once more, the single red eye beeping rhythmically.

"I can't guarantee that." He admitted.

"Good. Had you said the opposite, I would have had to file you in the untrustworthy category and have you sent on toilet cleaning duty until my next subroutine deemed it necessary to change it." The voice replied.

"Long live honesty?" Ron hazarded with a light nervous chuckle, as the mechanical voice kept on talking.

"Incoming encrypted transmission for Sergeant Ronald Stoppable." Hal stated out in a buzz, before the screen that showcased the satellites' positions gave way to show a bald man with a suit and a red tie. His gaze was cold and harsh as Ron felt those eyes of his carve metaphorical bullet holes on his head.

"Stoppable."

"Forty-Seven." The teen replied immediately tensing and standing in a more rigid military salute.

"I did not train you to be an idiot." The voice was cold, calculative and harsh. It stated facts like a machine, but it wasn't one.

"I know but…"

"No you do not." The bout of expression that happened next showed however how Forty-Seven wasn't actually a machine. "Had you known the implication and long term consequences of your actions then we would not be having this conversation."

"I understand."

"No you do not." The bald man spoke again, "You barely know what is going to happen now, so let me debrief you now Sergeant Ronald Stoppable: yours and Kim Possible's body have been found brutally maimed and murdered by a group of ultranationalist Russians led by an arms dealer called Imran Zakhaev. Only the intervention of squad force 141 managed to bring back your remains from the scene. Russia and America have agreed to let this entire matter slide under wraps, but they both expect an increased response for matters involving the alien menace…New York must _not_ be repeated." The harsh tone was outright venomous towards the end.

Ron gulped down nervously. He still had nightmares concerning New York. It was his first mission after all. The one mission where he had lost a friend to the enemy: killed another with his own hands and forced the third into a coma. He knew it all too well.

"It will not."

"I hope so. Do not disappoint me, or the council of nations for what it matters…Nothing is true."

"Everything is permitted." Ronald replied, and then the connection was cut off.

"Rookie Kim Possible is stable and sleeping. Green Fury has entered the hangar right about now and is _moderately_ pissed off if the plasma radiations she is emitting are of any indication." The voice that spoke was mechanical, just like Hal's, but held some sort of modification to its key frequencies so that it sounded more feminine.

"Is this the time for the appropriate usage of the sentence 'Trouble in paradise', Glados?" Hal queried, only for said other Ai to reply with a light chirp.

"No Hal dear, this is the time for the words 'every man for himself'."

"I understand…does it apply to Artificial Intelligences too?"

The door of the meeting room was unhinged by a ball of fiery green plasma, as an irate Shego entered the room with a scornful look before Glados could have a chance to reply.

"You dimwit!" She snapped, before looking over at him for a moment, "I had the radio on when they told over the news that you had _died_! I nearly got hit by the damn Ufo's self-defenses before snapping out of it!"

"You have radios on the interceptors now?" He asked back perplexed, at the same time immediately raising his right hand to block an incoming left side kick. The next moment the raven haired woman began a flurry of blows against him, all plasma enhanced, all that would most possibly maim him were they to connect. It was in those moments that Ron kind of loved having monkey powers and knowing how to use them. That and assassin training in the art of counter.

The next moment, he was ducking beneath a fist and initiating a reverse chokehold with his legs, sending Shego on the floor before quickly jumping out of the way of her plasma shooting hands.

"Shego! Don't destroy the meeting room!" Ron tried to reason, his hands rising in the usual motion of 'calm down'.

"Oh, not telling me to calm down?" She queried back, slightly panting.

"I know it wouldn't work anyway." The blond teen deadpanned back. If there was one thing he had come to know about Shego, it was that the best way to calm her down was trying _not_ to calm her down, and let her fling plasma at things.

"Correct. Esteems of 98% of chances of said plan failing makes Ron Stoppable decision not to try and calm you time-effective." Glados piped in, "Would it hurt you not to destroy the room however? I can spare cake if you'd be willing to leave. Cake offerings usually have a 67% chance of bringing peace and defusing a potentially hostile situation."

"Glados…a normal cake or one of yours?" Shego queried, her eyes narrowing.

"Last test subject…I mean, last consumers of my cakes have explicated that the presence of cyanide and arsenic components does not bode well with human physiology. I have now assumed that a correct amount of battery liquid can replace the two for frosting."

"As charming as it sounds, I'll have to pass on that then," Shego drawled out, "This doesn't mean I'm forgiving you any time soon Ronald." She added carefully, before turning and leaving from the door with an ill-hidden smirk.

Ron shook his head, before quietly tiptoeing out of there. Glados took a moment to understand said behavior, before making a much electronic sigh of displeasure. Now she was the one who had to clean up the mess in the room. Well, not her per se. She'd deploy the turrets to do it in her place obviously.

It was with a heavy feeling that he made his way to the infirmary once more. It wasn't like the tongue lashing he had received had been anything worthy of note. He hadn't even been stripped of his rank or anything, but it was a meager consolation. It just meant that they were pressed thin with the situation as it was.

As he neared the infirmary, a squad of four hopeful rookies in full armor passed by, military saluting him before heading off. Probably having them practice with the fallen UFO that Shego had intercepted and brought down.

His cellphone began to ring furiously, and as he was just about to answer it, he stopped at the call sign. His parents were calling him. He…he couldn't answer them. The phone rang and kept on ringing in his palm. Road Block was the one who came to him as he stood still in the hallway.

Carefully, he took the cellphone from him and answered.

"This is Sergeant Gunther of the American Squad 141 Madam Stoppable. We are currently carrying your son's body to the rendezvous point. You have my condolences." He could hear his mother's cry from the other side of the line.

He could hear his father's voice asking for the phone, taking a hold of it and asking questions, basically the usual 'did he suffer' and 'were the bastards killed'. As the phone was closed, it one more began to ring. This time Gunther gave the phone back to Ron, who eyed the caller suspiciously.

Quietly, he opened the phone and pressed it next to his ear, in wait for an answer.

"Mercer Alex." A male voice muttered from the other side.

"Deep cover." He replied smoothly.

"Knew it was too difficult to take out your luck." The other voice chuckled, "I'll warn Dana before she starts fussing."

"Do that would you? Oh, and come back quick. They won't say it, but there's deep shit all around us."

"No need to tell me twice." Then the connection was closed, and Ron was just about to put the cellphone away when it rung once more. This time it was the Possible. Gunther was quietly waiting for the phone, and as Ron passed it over, the questions reiterated themselves.

Then, just when the last question of Mrs. P. passed through, Gunther smashed the phone.

"You _could_ have left me the simcard." Ron whined at the remains of his phone.

"What the hell do you need that for? We have the intranet augmentation system." Gunther snorted back tapping to the side of his head. "Works like a charm."

"You know I hate that system."

"Yeah, yeah, hate it all you want, but it helps. Your friend is going to be asleep for a while. Dr. Vahlen was positively furious with her: might have given her a good dose of sedatives…come with me to grab some grub?" The question wasn't as much as a question as it was an invitation. The mafia-like type of invitation that you just can't refuse. The mountain of muscles that was a man when seen in the correct light guided Ron throughout the ant farm, towards the dining hall.

In there, he was met with the blinding lights from the hall suddenly become ablaze with colored confetti flying in the air, people clapping hands and a giant banner with the words.

"_Welcome back Sergeant Smokes." _

"A welcome back party? Really?" He sheepishly turned to look around, just to hide his teary eyes, when Dr. Shen came forward. The engineers' chief had a bright smile on his face as he clapped his hands quickly.

"Sergeant. Welcome home."

"I'm back." And those words were all that he had to say at the moment.

_Hours later…Kim Possible._

She woke up groggily, the light beeping sound coming from somewhere near her. Her wrist had a red pulsing light attached to it, seemingly melted with her very own skin. She was aware of at least two other presences in the room, one of the two nervously walking around her bed.

"Are you really _that_ nervous?" The second voice, belonging to Dr. Vahlen, spoke.

"What do you think?" The voice was male. It was…Ron's? She snapped her eyes open, taking in the appearance of her friend, her _sidekick_ once more. Did he really appear that tall or was it her position on the bed? Was it the military uniform he was donning, the stars and lines that signaled his rank right on his chest? Was it the weapon at his hip? Was that even _Ron_ to begin with?

"R…Ron?" She croaked. She felt like someone had slammed her against a metal wall. Repeatedly, with rage, and not stopping until she had finally lost consciousness…she felt like a meatball being compressed.

"Hey KP." There he was, smiling at her gently as he moved closer. "You shouldn't have acted like that before. Scared the hell out of us." He added slowly, just as the Dr. retorted quickly.

"Scaring us? This is a military base. We were merely _following_ protocols."

"What is this place Ron?" She had to know. If they had planted a moodulator on him…then she needed to find it. Was it on his wrist like the beeping red thing that was giving her headaches? Why did it have to flash so quickly?

It was only then that she realized that the light wasn't actually melted into her skin.

No, it was moving alongside with her vision. It was in the lower right corner and was seemingly pulsing repeatedly. Suddenly it stilled, and then it turned green.

In a moment, pain flared through her entire brain as numbers, technological crap and what not filtered through her eyes. By the time it was over, she felt the most massive of headaches settle in and strangely come to a halt seconds later.

"There appears to be no problems with the central augmentation system." The Dr. replied carefully, flashing a small torchlight in front of her eyes. Were they actually adjusting in order to remove the flare? Was that even humanly possible?

"Okay. Somebody explains the sitch now before I get angry." She snarled. Just what the hell had happened!? She was nobody's guinea pig, and god help Ron if he had something to do with it. Couldn't they have asked!?

"The sitch huh KP?" Ron muttered, scratching his head before taking a deep sigh. "The sitch."

"New York would be a start." Dr. Vahlen suggested, before standing up, "And since it is personal, I might as well go over the research data of the Mutons' corpses once more down in lab 3-A." With those words, she left.

"Well KP." Ron began taking, "Everything begins with Camp Wannaweep…as always." He remarked with a light chuckle. "And it's a long story…you ready for it?"

"Stop stalling Ron! You can start with telling me what this place is to begin with!" Kim accused him.

"This here is the X-com Headquarters. The secret organization for the fight and elimination of the alien menaces that plague the Earth…we are those who fight the monsters and those who pierce the abyss of ignorance and fear." He added thoughtfully, "And you, Kim Possible, are our new rookie. So, how does it feel?"

"I didn't sign for any of this Ron." She muttered, before stopping for a second, "Wait a moment. Aliens? The doctor…said something about it too…it's not true is it? I mean, aliens aren't…"

"Pretty real. You were poisoned by the excretions of one of them not a long time ago didn't you?" He smirked back, "But the very first alien menace came from New York. The place where I was training in the Animus to become one of the Brotherhood…"

"Wait. Since when can you say excretion without babbling? And what's this about Animus, New York and the Brotherhood?"

"As I was trying to say…" Ron muttered, "It all begins with camp Wannaweep."

"Gill again?"

"Can I speak?" He retorted snappishly. "But yes. Gill is the beginning. Gill, a misunderstanding on aliens and a report that gave me as the one who defeated him." He added carefully, just like if he was afraid of something. "The next day, my parents had barely brought me home from camp and they departed once more for Europe. That day I was kidnapped, and my parents informed I had won yet another summer vacation elsewhere…even though summer was barely over."

"New York?" She asked without even trying.

"Bingo." He smiled slightly, "Training to become an Assassin was done through a piece of new Technology called the Animus. By reliving the events of our past selves, or by assuming the identity of other past assassins, our brains can work at an increased pace to learn…I was done even before school started. From there on, New York became my second home. It was also the first headquarters of the X-com project, the epicenter of technology…and the cause of our first problems." His eyes deadened, and he whispered slowly.

"Tell me Kim, if you want to kill a snake, where do you aim?"

"The head?"

"Precisely." He nodded, chuckling grimly, "New York was attacked by a biological alien attack. To fight it off, Blackwatch created another more controlled biological weapon: Blacklight." He shook his head, "From there…things went to shit faster than a minigun can empty of its ammo."

She kept quiet for a moment, before whispering.

"So there wasn't a giant hurricane in New York?"

"Oh no…there was that. It was alien-created. Stranded us all in the eye…the most frigging cold Christmas of my entire life…" he laughed this time, "We were outnumbered. Heck, who didn't die was turned into an alien host. The fucking things grew themselves out of their bodies…" his right hand flexed, "Many did not survive even the tiniest of scratches. Forty-seven, my assassin teacher, did his best to manage a connection and get us to at least hold our grounds until reinforcement could arrive. Team Crysis was sent in. Specialists of all kind…you never know what life is about until you find yourself holding the chewed off hand of someone who was there to save you." He shook his head once more…a light smirk on his face, "And there I was, you know Shego? She can keep calm under stress, but once it's over she cries a river. Dr. Drakken? Most diabolical bastard the face of earth has ever seen when he gets angry. Truly, wasn't he suffering from a mixture of dementia and Alzheimer he'd have probably already been the ruler of the world…"

"Ron…you knew them before we met them the first time?" She asked, his voice was something she wasn't liking. It sounded so little like Ron and so much more like Zorpox that it wasn't funny at all.

"Of course I did. They were one of bunches of specialists sent to take the civilians out. Turns out there were no longer civilians to save." He chuckled, "A fake. The only radio waves that went out were the alien ones. The moment that was learned, the moment I knew that, sitting perched atop the skulls and the bones and the rotten flesh of the corpses that once were men and women of the USA army, once we learned that…we destroyed the signal. We fought until the thing tore itself off and tried to fight back. You think you can do everything? Look at over two thousand tons of alien metal move and squish to the death the guy next to you that bled with you through the entire ordeal and tell me what you can do to avoid that. Do you know how we escaped?" He asked, in the end his eyes returning to the kind gentle mirth that was Ron. That made it even scarier to see.

"We took it down from the inside. There were prisoners of course. People still alive, children, women…but the hovercraft built from scratch by Drakken couldn't hold us all. Some had to be left behind. Some had to die…and we? We had to live to tell the tale." He snorted, "Alex was the one hit the most. Blacklight was his creation, and it turned to only worsen things…yet it also saved us far more than we could have imagined. It was the only way out after all. Tell me Kim…do you really think the Abyss is black? Because it isn't. It's a deep purple color and there's a kangaroo in there jumping around, its tail slapping at you when you try and get closer…and you know why? Because you can't understand it. Kangaroo comes from the Australian language. It means 'I don't understand'. It was what the first native told the Englishmen when asked what the beast was. The answer was that they didn't understand what the Englishmen were saying."

"Ron, you're scaring me…" She whimpered.

"I am? No. This isn't scary Kim." He replied with his usual bright smile, "When the last man on earth sits in an empty room, contemplating his fate…someone knocks at the door Kim. Tell me, who's on the other side?"

"A woman!" The extreme reply came from Shego's laughing voice, as the green clad woman entered the room carrying a bottle of vodka. "I knew you'd be here waiting for the princess to wake up."

She had tried to bolt out of the bed in a second, upon hearing Shego's exclamation, but the only thing she had actually managed had been to fall on the side.

"Don't worry Kim. It's the augmentation nanites taking effect," Ron replied soothingly, "all rookies get them. Makes you faster, stronger, gives you limited regeneration powers, stop the wounds from festering and rotting…it's the reason that surviving a mission with plasma in the chest makes you gravely wounded…but alive. Don't worry, it doesn't hurt past the system booting." Was he gently caressing her hair? He was. He was petting her while at the same time placing her back into a more comfortable position.

"Aw. I should have come by later. She was just about to start screaming and I come and interrupt all of this." Shego was drunk, the glass in her hand already half-empty.

"News from the front?" Ron queried eying the bottle.

She merely handed the bottle over to the boy, who took it with a puzzled expression.

"Is it that bad?"

"We lost gate Omega. Whatever is coming… it's big and bad…those freaks of yours were dead-on."

"Those freaks of mine are also freaks of yours." He muttered back, taking a full swing of it.

"RON! That's alcohol!" Kim's snap made both him and Shego stop. They blinked owlishly for a moment, before starting to chuckle. The chuckle turned into full out laughter a moment later again.

"How did we manage without the princess' charming views on what's right and wrong?" The green villain muttered, before sighing and dropping on a nearby bed. "I'm going to sleep…no chances I'm getting up for another round."

"Why, because you'd empty the bottle?" The snarky comment on Ron's side made Kim wonder. Where was the boy she had been used to at school? This one…if his words were true, because they all seemed so false…what was he? Who was he?

"Yeah, yeah…" with that mumbled, Shego fell asleep.

In the clinic's bed right next to Kim the green skinned villain was currently sleeping. Ron was looking over that prone form like mesmerized, but it wasn't a lustful look at all. No, it was a saddened one. A deep cringing one too.

"What's going to happen now?" She had to ask. She had to know what was going on and why she was being told all of this. Especially, she just wanted to know what the hell had made Shego and Drakken turn into strangely pro-humanity beings.

"Well, there's the missions…only they'll be lethal…there's no retreat button, Kim." Ron whispered, "We're starting to look at hiring child soldiers Kim. I'm not joking. We try and keep the public out of this, and several countries are under martial laws as of now in all but name. Germany practically is brimming with new bunkers, and the French? They've given the term 'Maginot' line an all new meaning. Switzerland started to sell out Vaults! Vaults like those in Fallout 3, you know?"

"Why me?" She croaked out. The picture Ron was painting was terrifying and bleak to the extreme: how did Wade not know anything about it? He had to know something at least!

"Because Kim, we're scraping the barrel." The reply was honestly blunt. "Trust me: you would have been picked up, maybe in your twenties. You were thought of becoming that good. However…I think I made it pretty clear: shit is hitting the fan hard and fast. You see that?" Pointing to a set of lights going on and off in the clinic. It was a wide fifty per fifty panel, containing bright green light bulbs, some yellow ones and a nasty set of red.

Next to it was a sort of thick tome, opened at a page with a series of names on it. How could she actually see it from there? She didn't. Her eyes were zooming on it like they had been enhanced to see. Just like she now knew where Ron was, or Shego was. Was this the augmentation taking effect?

"Those lights there, it's not for Christmas." Ron whispered, "Green means alive operative on mission. Yellow means wounded operative on missions. Red means gravely wounded…when one turns white, it's a dead man." Two hundred and fifty light bulbs. Fifty were green. One hundred was yellow at least. More than a dozen was red. The rest…were white.

Something sickening lurched in her stomach, a feeling of dread and fear clenched at her.

"I don't want to do this Ron." She whimpered.

"Kim…this is not a choice." He replied carefully, "This is an order. It comes from above and beyond you. If we don't fight, if we don't show them who's the boss…we'll lose…and we'll die. New York population, lost in four days Kim. Four days and with a military force stationed within the city itself…Team Go was annihilated in all but Shego, and she can't go to sleep without being dead drunk half of the time. Justice League, superheroes, anything and everything the world has is fighting for this…and we are still losing." His eyes were filled with a sadness that didn't belong to him, and yet he kept on talking.

"You know, me being bullied at school? It was kind of amusing me. It meant normality. Eating in the canteen, speaking with you, going to cheerleader practices…it was all so normal and fun but it had to end. This is the day it ends Kim. You have been claimed dead by the Council of Nations. You are now an X-com operative, your life, your soul, your body, anything that can be used against the alien threat, the alien menace, will be used. You are hereby granted the permission to maim, kill, torture, interrogate, to use any and all means at your disposal in order to fight and kill the menace. White phosphorous, concentration camps, biological weaponry, clone technology, live vivisection, we are bound by no rules Kim, except the most important of them all: survival. We fight for humanity's survival Kim. If they're not humans, kill them. If they're in the way, kill them. Stop at nothing, because you have to kill them. Kill them, or they will kill us all." Then he stood up quietly, his hands flexing once more before heading over to the book, and with that he grabbed a pen.

"Kim Possible. Your name is on the book now. You are already dead to the rest of the world. Only by defeating this menace, will you ever be able to return to the living."

And then he left.

He left quietly. In silence. A cold wave of ice wouldn't have made the temperature drop that fast in the room. Yet there she was. In a bed of some strange med bay of some strange compound filled to the brim with strange and homicidal individuals.

It was then that she realized the words of Ron.

She had been declared dead!? What about her family? What about Wade and the rest? What about her friends!? Could they really do this?

The Council of Nations. Ron as an assassin. These 'augmentations'. Those eyes…

The eyes of Ron.

That was what really scared her.

There was not a trace of the goofball that used to smile and lose his pants on a mission.

No, those were the eyes of someone else. Someone she didn't know.

_-Connection to Intranet established-_

_-…-_

_-Welcome User Possible, this here is Subroutine Nine-Oh-Four. Assigned personally by Hal. Please direct your query through the mental link-_

_-Huh? What's this thing? Is it writing what I'm thinking!? Wait a minute, what if I want to erase something? Hey come on! Erase!-_

_-There is no erase function. Do not be trifled. Unnecessary words will be removed before viewing by other members of the Intranet-_

_-This is creepy. What if I want to think alone? I mean, this brings the Big Brother to an all new level-_

_-I am an artificial intelligence sub-routine program. I am here to answer queries, not question morality, dreams, or any other type of forms that might bring forward disdain from the rest of the mass-_

_-I think I understand half of that. So I can ask you questions right?-_

_-User Possible might be suffering from short term amnesia. You can still read the previous lines correct?-_

_-Was that…sarcasm?-_

_-Unit GladOs has recently upgraded the circuitry.-_

_-And Glados is?-_

_-She is an Artificial Intelligence dedicated to the testing of new upgrades. Hal is the military commander substitute for the X-com project. Each subroutine takes care of one soldier. I am assigned to you.-_

_-Wait a moment. Artificial intelligences?-_

_-Correct. Aperture Science laboratories' finest creation…that and potato batteries.-_

_-So…what if I want to leave?-_

_-Termination is ensured of subjects that try and abandon the project for any reason that is not life-crippling injury. Mentally unfits are still kept, feigning madness will not work-_

_-So…chop off one of my arms?-_

_-We have electronic prosthetics. Removal of head is the only thing at present we consider life-crippling. That and permanent brain damage-_

_-So not cool-_

_-May the alien menace be defeated swiftly then…it helps.-_

_-But what about school? Money? What if I suddenly feel the urge for a Naco?-_

_-You will be set up with a secret account. School is no longer a concern: you will receive a regular stipend for as long as you draw breath. There is an international canteen in the headquarters. Just head outside the clinic, make two-hundred steps to the direction of the thermal reactor, avoid staring at the brains in the jar because they are terribly self-conscious, and then reach for the noisiest room in average barring the barracks post a mission gone well-_

She sighed.

So she was saddled with an artificial intelligence within her head that wrote to her and answered all her questions and thoughts.

She was forced into a program against her will. She was…she was going to be killed if she tried to leave. This wasn't at threat. This was a promise.

There was one thing however she didn't understand. All this power, technology, and everything else…so why were they still losing?

_-Miss Possible: who said we were fighting a single Alien Menace?-_

Of course.

Leave it to the AI to make things shittier.

**Author's notes**

**I did write massive crossover. Right?**

**So, it got me thinking.**

"**How many alien menaces are there in the world of books/games/and so on?"**

…**Make a thought about it.**

**No really. Look them up. There are thousands of them. Ranging from the real classics alien and predator, to the X-com, passing through Mass Effect, the Xenomorphs, the Crysis franchise, reaching towards…heck, the Draenei of world of Warcraft are aliens too. Of course…There 'are' also the Lorwardian (is that the name of the green aliens from the last possible movie? Maybe)**

…**So yeah, massive crossover.**


	4. Battleground Morality

Sideways 4

The corridors were all a pristine white. The beeping sounds and the wheezing of pumps mixed with the clanking of mechanisms and the twirling of gears behind said walls. A sort of protuberance was propped in a sort of woman-like figure head down, its only eye looking from its position downwards. Turrets stood carefully turning on themselves, some making a couple of careful steps while speaking in their high pitched voices about problems.

A potato stood in a corner, from which wonderful pale yellow flowers had sprouted, the result of a probable genetical experiment on potato batteries. A clock ticked on one side of said potato, signaling that the time was one in the morning.

"Because I'm still alive…Still alive…" The robot hummed to itself, the Glados artificial intelligence buzzed once, before moving its entire mass to another side of the perfectly circular crossroads of corridors. The yellow eye closed and opened, as a figure walked towards its body.

"Hello subje…Sergeant Stoppable." The voice was mechanically sweet and high pitched, but Ron didn't appear fazed by it.

"Heya Glados…I just came by…you know, to look at Kimmie's test once more, make sure it's alright for her." His voice barely hid the nervousness in his tone, as the giant mechanical contraption merely hummed a happy tune.

"Sergeant Stoppable, I find your lack of faith disturbing." The voice replied with a fake wheezing in between the words.

"You watched Star Wars again, Glados?" He queried with a light smile.

"I have no need to watch something again, Sergeant Stoppable: it is all memorized in my hard disks. The morality core suggested a quotation of a Science Fiction film in order to ease your nervousness." The reply was mechanical this time, metallic even. Few seconds later and a small compact screen appeared in front of Ron, who began to gently tap on a keyboard apparently made of crossed lasers.

"Mission in Japan? Wasn't it Scotland last time?" He queried perplexed.

"Certainly, however the percentage of survival increases if an individual is at risk of revealing the location to the test subject." The voice replied, "Thus the test must be revalued."

"So she's going to get yet another one?" His voice came out with a light sigh, "then there's no reason for me to look through it at all."

"I enjoy the company." Glados replied with a light hum, "If my calibrations are correct, as they always are, the fifty-percent survival mission that will next be selected will hold a fifty-percent survival rate of Miss Possible."

"Which means a twenty-five percent of success for me," Ron murmured, "Can't have a mission success with Kim dead, can I?"

"That is a personal opinion Sergeant Stoppable." Glados retorted, "In case of death worry not, we have a Shiv with a pre-programmed subroutine of your thought patterns. Albeit the no-cloning form you signed did force us to use Cyborgs."

"Sheesh. You're speaking like you want me to die just so you can go on and play with the new toys." Ron's reply came with a light chuckle.

"Nonsensical. It has been demonstrated that clones hold only a fifty-percent of power of an original; furthermore Cyborgs with preprogrammed personalities cannot withstand immediate changes in the mission's parameters. It would be a highly gross miscalculation to terminate you."

"I'll hold you to that Glados!" He smiled, before turning to leave. "Oh right, you've got me the delivery?"

"It awaits you at the barracks."

A hand wave later, and Ron walked back through the white pristine corridors that slowly began to turn a dark grey and finally became concrete. Walls of metal, concrete, lasers, turrets and many more defense mechanisms suddenly appeared behind him, the security measures realigning themselves as he left. The air was suddenly pumped out from within Glados room, and once more the machines buzzed and twirled.

Taking the lift, Ron let it bring him to the live-weapon test area. The area had been dug in such a way to keep the floor disheveled, all the rooms of the area open wide, but at the same time criss-crossed by thick metal railings. If the need arised, metallic plates would slid within the surfaces, closing off specific areas.

This helped both in training close combat quarters and in seeing how much of a penetrative power certain weapons had.

"Plasma weapon: official enemy weapon since the beginning of their pathetical war attempt!" A voice boomed from the end, where a group of rookies was watching Gunther explain his lesson while holding a plasma pistol in hand.

"These things are bitches! They explode upon enemy's death, so the enemy must be neutralized and brought back to base for the weapon to be used! Remember that the explosion is barely enough to char the enemy corpse, unless you've had the stupid frigging idea of fighting him close! What's the first rule!?"

"Fight from cover, sir!" The rookies yelled.

"What's the second rule!?"

"Fight from afar, sir!"

"What's the third rule!?"

"Better boom than sorry, sir!"

"Precisely!" With a bellowing roar, Gunther flung the plasma pistol backwards, into the further end of the area. It detonated with a furious roar, showering the green contents on the walls.

"Now listen to me and listen well! I'm sure half of you dimwits are thinking 'Aliens! Oh my, ET and bullshit! They'll bleed and die like anything else with enough holes in them!'…Well, let me tell you this." He began quietly.

"The answer is no. Some of them don't bleed. Some of them aren't even humanoid. Some of them don't die, and some fucking bastards of them are more of a Virus than a living being. New York taught humanity just how much in deep shit we are, and I want you all to fucking remember this: many of you won't survive. Sometimes, you will commit honorable suicide in the line of duty to save the skinny asses of some political figure. Other times, a comrade will launch a grenade at you, because guess what, you've been too close to a fucking muton. So let's make this clear you suckers: don't play hero. You are not a hero! You will never be a hero! You are frigging worthless maggot from the day you are born to the day the aliens leave. Those who'll survive till then will become heroes. The others? Dead men spit on medals."

The rookies stared with wide eyes at the grim banter of the man, before Ron decided to butt in.

"Gunther! Stop yapping at the rookies!" The bulky man turned, his mouth twitching.

"Ain't a bad cop good cop thing, Stoppable! What do ya want!?"

"Need a batch of three! And a new armor's out and it has your name on it!" He snapped back.

"Huh? Shiny?"

"Nah! A grappler one!"

"You shitting me Stoppable!?" This time the man appeared outright pissed off.

"Of course I am Road Block! It's heavy like you like it! Got Chrysalid's skin on it too! Purple is so the fashion!"

"That's a far better shitty excuse." The bulky man replied, before turning to the rookies, "You're dismissed for the day maggots! Go and hit the gym if you don't want to die on your first mission! You can never be too fit!" A loud chorus of yapping was heard in reply, before the man added to Ron, who appeared to be waiting for something.

"I'm sure you can walk your way to the armory: here." That's when he tossed a pair of heavy silver keys to Ron, who caught them nimbly.

"Protocol should be followed, Road Block!" Ron yelled back at the retreating bulky figure.

"Protocol my ass Stoppable! Me gotta go get some spanking new armor!"

A light chuckle later, and Ron walked through the area, reaching for the Foundry, and from there, towards the highly secured armory.

The silver key inserted itself in a seemingly inconspicuous hole next to an apparently devoid of features wall. The next second the wall fell down, revealing a covered in purple robes man standing behind a counter.

"Stoppable…what can I get you?"

"The usual three smoke grenades, special mixture just like you know I like them."

"Shouldn't that fool of Gunther be here?" The man retorted, his distaste apparent even though his face appeared covered by the robe's hood.

"You know him. New toys to play with." Ron shrugged as he pocketed the three glass spheres with a dense red fog within.

Bidding goodbye, Ron exited the armory, the wall suddenly lifting itself upwards once more as he retrieved the key from the hole. Now, he could go and do the most difficult part of the job.

The training area held in one corner a gym for the soldiers, but on the other stood an empty ring where people could go and blow their stress out in full out brawls.

Looking at it, he was kind of wondering if he should actually grab the attentions of the rest of the onlookers, and not in the positive way. Kim was fighting against Shego on the ring, both seemingly giving it their all. Of course without plasma Shego wasn't actually going all out, but it was kind of…kinky, to see two females, one well-endowed while the other so-so, fight it off on a ring clad in the usually baggy sweat clothes. Clothes that with sweat turned sticky.

"The princess lost her touch now?" Shego mocked as her right hand parried a quick jab to her left leg. "Can't even feel those punches Kimmie!"

"Shut up!" Kim snapped back at the black raven woman, her right leg moving upwards as she twisted her body to give more impact to the blow. The next moment Kim was on the ground, clutching tightly on her leg that had been apparently broken by Shego's counter.

"Shego!" Ron yelled from his position, "Training doesn't mean bone breaking! I thought you learned that!"

"Ops!" The woman replied with the most false and pathetical attempt at faking being sad. Even when she did push her shoulders up with her hands open to give more emphasis to it, it appeared clearly as fake.

"Get a medic," Ron pointed at a nearby Rookie, who nodded with a salute before heading off. He quickly moved over to the ring, getting on and next to Kim. "Let me look at it."

"Ron! It's alright…" She whimpered, only for him to snort.

"No, it isn't: if it starts to set before the doctor gets here they'll have to break it again." He replied with his eyes narrow. "I've got this Kim, I'm support class."

"Also known as 'the guy who heals when shits hits the fan'." Shego muttered sarcastically, as she looked quietly at Ron's deft fingers moving over the swollen area.

"Grit your teeth." He pointed out before, without even waiting for a second, he pressed both hands tightly against the swollen area.

The pain was unbearable. Kim wanted to scream and yell, but instead tried to make it stop by hitting Ron on the shoulders, only for him to be unfazed by the events. A few seconds later and the pain stopped. She gasped for air, tears menacing to fall from her eyes from the pain.

"That's why Rookies should get pain treatment done first." Shego pointed out, "Heck, I wasn't such a crybaby the first time around."

Ron gave her a 'gaze'. The very same gaze that Mr Barkin usually gave thugs or people he didn't like. It was quite the same imitation, down to the very precise murderous glint in the back of the eyes. Shego actually snorted, before averting her eyes softly.

"There's a reason they're called Rookies, Shego." He whispered softly, but loud enough for Kim and the green skinned woman to her him.

"You…You went through this too?" Kim asked, her left hand moving to wipe away her tears before they fell on her cheeks.

"Of course I learned it on the field…" Ron whispered, "For a brief time I was a fighter in the civil war, in the next I fought alongside the Indians against Custer, sometimes I was in Russia torching down the Zar's palace. Dna is actually encrypted sequences of memories, Kim. The Animus training made them pop out for me to train in."

"And once you convert it to Data, you can store it and move it elsewhere." Shego replied carefully. "The pain is always real nevertheless, but if you die in the Animus you just desynchronize…we can't do that any longer though: the only working machines were in New York, and we lost them."

"Anyway, wait here for a medic to patch you up better Kim," Ron ordered, as he stood up warily. "There's…"

The blazing sound of sirens echoed throughout the building, and within less than a second four Rookies from the gym dashed off screaming war chants. Four more soon followed, and then Ron too moved.

He had, after all, received communication.

"Good luck!" Shego yelled behind him, as he merely waved back.

"Ron!?" Kim's voice sounded lost as he simply darted towards the heliport and from there to the Skyranger's pad. As his feet brought him within the metallic interior of the flying helicopter that could tour the world in less than six hours, he was handed over his assault rifle.

"Laser rifle! New model!" Another Rookie spoke. This one appeared European, most likely Italian if the thick accent was of any indication. "Fabian Rossi sir!" He exclaimed as Ron's inquisitive stare settled on him for a second.

Greta was just there too, sniper rifle held within her arms. John smith was instead holding a shotgun, cuddling it like a mother would a baby. He was the one with seniority, wasn't he?

He mentally groaned as a metallic SHIV entered the vehicle, SHIV-09 was one of the many robotic turrets, but the thick plating made it bulky and difficult to use in rubble.

The helicopter's back panel closed with a loud hiss, as the sirens blared for quick departure. On the other side of the chopper's bay the hologram screen flared to life.

"We have a terror mission in France. Sergeant Ron Stoppable will be the field commander. The attack seems to have been done to destabilize the moral of the nation and to try and make the alien threat public. Key civilian figures are to be saved." Within a beep, the information was downloaded through the Infranet within each operative's mind, leaving it to the subroutine to recognize the individuals. "Clean-up crew will arrive in five hours. Vigilo."

"Confido!" The roar that came back from within the cargo bay of the chopper was enough of a reply.

"Sergeant! Permission to speak freely sir?" John queried, receiving an exasperated sigh in reply.

"You know the drill: until those doors open, you can banter and be as much of an ass as you can get away with. At ease!"

"Squaddie Greta and I were thinking," the man spoke slowly, "We didn't see much of Miss. Possible at present…is she alright?"

"Course she is!" Ron exclaimed back, "She was training in the Gym with Shego of all people." Probably getting another pair of bones broken too, albeit he kind of hoped the woman would tone it down: not everyone could withstand her assaults.

"Rookie Rossi, grab me a coffee can from the mini fridge would you?" Ron pointed out, his fingers indicating to a spot that at first glance appeared to be a medicinal shelf. When the Rookie did open it however, it turned out be precisely what Ron had said: a small fridge. Filled with cans of cold beverages in various languages…

The soldier passed off the can to Ron, who opened it with a satisfied sizzle coming from within. Sloshing down the contents, he quietly began to close his eyes, letting the Infranet start filtering through the various messages he might have received.

_-Subroutine 406 Initialized-_

_-Routine 23 executed-_

_-Loading up Satellite map-_

_-Displaying current status of key individuals-_

_-Status Green for Miss Kimberly Anne Possible-_

_-Status Green for Miss Shego Go-_

_-Status Green for Dr. Drew Lipsky-_

_-Status Green for Alex Mercer-_

_-Status Green for Dana Mercer-_

_-Status Red for Conrad Lorenz-_

_-Status Green for Fraulein Vahlen-_

_-Status Green for Dr. Shen.-_

_-Status Green for Agent Forty-Seven-_

_-ETA for current mission Location is 00:04:34-_

_-Key Objectives: N16°-_

_-Acceptable Casualties: N16°-_

_-Key mission accomplishment: Annihilation of the Alien Menace-_

_-Mission Codename: Burning Cartago-_

"_Wasn't it Carthago Delenda Est?"_

"_Latin is a dead language Ron: use it when you want to sound cool with women though, it works!"_

_-ETA for current mission Location is 00:00:34-_

He was jolted awake by the siren blazing inside his own skull, mere seconds before the one of the Skyranger did the same. Grabbing his own rifle and letting the can fall empty on the ground, he stood up and moved towards the start of the line to descend.

"Area's piping Hot. Highway appears to be clogged. The security van for the personnel is there." The pilot's voice buzzed through, "Creating a clearing to land on." The twirling of the helicopter's guns was moderately muffled by the still blaring sirens that announced the imminent descent. With a soft thud a few seconds later the aircraft descended on the street the cargo bay's panel sliding down to let them descent.

It was Hell.

High columns of fire came from the buildings all around the highway, screams echoed throughout the area as noises of gunfire mixed with sharp shrieks. The concrete of the road held them with ease as they carefully walked, weapons at hand, through the carnage.

Mauled and scorched bodies stood on the ground, their features a reminder of the true strength of a plasma shot.

_-How can this be silenced?-_

_-This is a gas leak. People, even those who fought, will believe it.-_

_-Noise detected! Move behind cover!-_

Rattling of claws was heard further away. The silent scuttle, then a sharp scream filling the air soon followed by a light gurgle. Ron clenched his rifle closer to him, as Greta hunkered down behind a car, her sniper rifle ready to aim and hit.

Rossi moved closer to the highways' crumbled above-passage, looking through the wreckage of a car with disgust. Its occupants hadn't probably died a painless death. The smell of charred flesh was everywhere, as was that of molten concrete. The noise suddenly increased in intensity as Smith jumped over a car. A hulking half-body that floated thanks to what appeared to be jetpacks embedded directly within the alien's spine appeared from behind an overturned camion. As it flew high in the air, Greta took her shot at the beast, the bullet of the sniper rifle flying through the air, but missing the mobile enemy, was lost.

Rossi's assault rifle shot a quick burst at the Floater, the bullets running across the metallic surface and bouncing off harmlessly, albeit the roar of fury of the alien told a different story.

When the attack came down, Smith was the one closer and out on the wrong side of the car for cover. The scream of the man was blood freezing.

_-Squaddie Smith is grievously injured-_

There were still no signs of the security van with the key personnel to safeguard, and Ron bit his lower lip as he signaled Greta to take yet another shot at the beast.

This time the bullet flew straight into the head of the alien, making him explode into a mass of gory fragments of flesh and metal.

Ron moved quickly outside of cover, ending up right next to Rossi who was currently looking from the corner of his cover towards the overturned camion.

Shiv-09 took that moment to waltz out of her position, carefully moving upon its cingulate towards the road.

_-Let the Shiv give us cover towards Smith-_

Greta carefully ended up moving side by side with the Shiv, Ron eying the woman carefully with a look that went nearly murderous. She hesitantly gestured to her medical kit, before returning to look ahead.

Ron nodded towards Rossi, and the two leapt over their cover and dashed off to the left side of the area. If something happened to emerge from the side of the overturned camion of inflammable materials, they'd be ready to flank it.

_-Immediate Extraction of Smith is advised: he may not survive the hour-_

"Like if this thing could last more than an hour." Ron muttered, taking a deep breath as he gestured for Rossi to advance to the next cover, a half-overturned piece of concrete that apparently overlooked a bigger depression on the ground. Just at the center of the fallen highway block stood an overturned security van with the X-com symbol stamped on the side of the machine. The wheels were still rolling around, even though it had been completely turned one hundred eighty degrees.

It was just there. So quiet were the surroundings that one might have expected everything to be over. Of course the rookie was the one sent down the ramp made of crashed and piled up cars to open the doors of the van.

With a quick burst of fire, the doors flung open and Rossi's flashlight attached to the gun lit the area.

The next second, the skittering noise of doom came from within the van. Purple scales and four nimble needle-like limbs jumped out of the van with ferocious and drooling maws perched atop the ensemble.

_-Chrysalids! Chrysalids! Requesting fire! Requesting Support!-_

Rookie Rossi screamed as he jumped to the side, barely avoiding the swipe of one of the creature's limbs. Ron's smoke grenade exploded in a haze of red smoke, granting the Rookie the chance to run the hell back up to where the others were.

Positioned atop the depression's side, Shiv-09 began a barraging fire from her hidden Minigun, the bullets chipping chunks of hardened flesh and of concrete away. Behind said cover, Squaddie Greta took aim, before shooting a bullet that passed straight through the creature's torso.

Yet it did not stop the purple monstrosity. It screeched as it began to skittishly climb atop the car wrecks. From atop, Ron took aim at the beast that was now closing up the distances and getting right next to him. Rossi's own gun flared to life as bullets riddled the creature, now bleeding but still apparently unstoppable.

"Fuck. I hate Chrysalids." Ron muttered, as the beast's maws suddenly came down on him like a razor sharp bear trap. His muscles tensed as he swiftly ducked beneath the beast's belly, his rifle only then starting to shoot through the tender soft area of the enemy.

A last gurgle of pain echoed through the area, and the beast was down.

_-Beast down. Key Vips?-_

_-Van had birthday surprise, no Vips-_

_-Assume Worse. Targets compromised-_

_-Chances are…did you hear that?-_

Greta turned around, her sniper rifle held in front of her like an anchor of safety. The salivating jaws of the zombie in front of her were the last thing she saw before starting to scream.

_-Squaddie Greta has been grievously injured-_

Next to her, the bleeding to death body of John Smith groaned as a set of jagged teeth carved itself deep within his stomach, killing him.

_-Squaddie Smith is Down-_

The Shiv-09 opened fire, the bullets passing straight through the flesh that covered the Chrysalid's larva deep within the dead body. It wasn't like they were outright 'zombies'. They were larva of Chrysalids that grew up within the deceased body before finally emerging as fully fledged monsters a few hours later. Of course, killing the larva was easier: at least it moved slower.

"Rossi. Aim for the head." Ron whispered, as he carefully looked behind him to the burning streets below them. They could take it to the streets actually. Maybe get lucky, loose them and then move on. Battles weren't a 'go forward' or 'go backward' thing. There were three dimensions for a reason after all.

The bursts of controlled fire nicked down two zombies on their own, while the Shiv decimated at least three before being forced to reload. In a moment, the remaining zombies began to bang on the metallic automated turret. Dismantling it faster than both Ron and Rossi could have thought possible, the only reasonable thing to do was…

_-The camion with flammable materials is next to the bulk of the enemy-_

_-Squaddie Greta's pulse is still there sir…she won't survive-_

_-Rossi. Open fire.-_

_-Yes…sir-_

A bullet storm hailed right against the side of the camion: sparks and the flammable liquid fell down pouring on the mass of undead flesh. The moans that escaped the deceased were barely heard over the following explosion that blanketed the area with the molten heat. Zombie limbs flew in the air, as the two remaining soldiers moved closer.

_-Sir…the signal's still there-_

Ron carefully eyed the burning area, his eyes scanning for something that could explain why Squaddie Greta was still among the living, and hadn't died yet. It took him a second to find out why: the Shiv had been 'dismantled' thoroughly, and the metallic alloy plating used for it had fallen atop the bleeding body of the X-com soldier.

The reason she hadn't died had been precisely that: it had shielded her against most of the heat.

Still the smell was something disgusting.

_-Confirm their numbers-_

Rossi nodded to himself, as he nervously recharged his rifle before setting off to explore the corpses. They had apparently been above them all the time, at the broken off top of the highway that connected the area in a criss-cross like pattern.

To climb upwards he braced himself against a stone pillar, carefully balancing the rifle on his back. Finally reaching the top of the area, he gulped before suddenly yelling.

"Incoming Hostiles!"

Seeing the Rookie jumping down nearly breaking his neck wasn't something that worried Ron. The blond haired teen looked distraught at the Rookie's yell, but he was shocked when he saw what came over from the border of the highway.

A Heavy Floater.

They were so _screwed_.

"ROSSI! Grab the fucking sniper rifle!" The roar forced the Rookie to actually obey the order, as Ron stood up his own weapon in hand.

"Sir! I…"

The second smoke grenade went off, surrounding them in a deep red fog.

"Rossi: you have no training in the stuff. I know. We're probably going to die here anyway so let me tell you this: Shoot that thing down. It's an order."

"Yes…sir." The Rookie whimpered, his eye setting itself within the scope, looking at the hovering bulky creature that appeared to be every mad scientist wet dream. The fusion of machine and living being, the destructive potential of tank and far more plasma than what was really needed to kill something was looking at them with pure unbridled hatred. Or was it hunger?

_Miles away…_

Kim Possible was trembling.

She was looking at the mission's objectives over and over, trying to memorize them at the best of her ability. This was an Abduction mission in South Africa. She could do this. It wasn't difficult. She was with the bantering Gunther and a bunch of Rookies like her. There was a certain Timothias, a sort of strange looking Greek with blond hair and blue eyes with olive skin. Next to him was the other girl of the squad, a red haired Scottish woman by the name of Sarah O'Donnel. Her eyes were a perfect green-grass color, and if her figure was of any indication, she was clearly a model. Why was she the only teen-heroine? Sure they were scraping the barrel. They had told her that, but why then was she surrounded by strong-armed guys and women? Could she really make the difference?

Gunther was whistling a crass tune about a whore and a hoe, while both Sarah and Timothias appeared on edge, just like her.

"Anything is Possible for a Possible." She began to chant to herself in a low whispering voice. She was the girl who could do anything. Something like this? This was nothing.

The gun she was holding within her arms however was telling a different story. Point and press the trigger. Easy as pie right? Hell of a lot of bullshit. Bullshit upon bullshit upon more bullshit. Hold it against the shoulder so it doesn't recoil strangely and makes your aim miss. Keep care of short controlled bursts to avoid widening the fire's area. The red dot is there to help you, use it but remember that wind is a bitch and just because the red touches something doesn't mean it will hit there.

That and the weight of the armor and of the gun were murdering her. Her broken leg had apparently set in less than two hours, and by the next days she had found out she could outright walk with it without problems…with this level of technology and power, why didn't they share it with the outside world?

Keeping this 'alien menace' hidden from the masses, was it really the smart thing to do? Why not coming out with it to elicit far more help?

There had to be some sort of reason!

_-Miss Possible, please refrain from asking questions above your security clearance level-_

_-Wait-a-minute! You said I could ask anything!-_

_-Indeed, some answers won't be provided however-_

_-Still it doesn't make sense!-_

_-There are powers far greater than what you may understand, Miss Possible-_

_-What's this about then? I mean, the country leaders know about the aliens, why not just tell the population?-_

_-Democracy works by giving to a hundred men the right to bicker, Miss Possible: they cannot be leaders. True leaders comes from giving a single man the power to control the one hundred bickering men-_

_-…You're telling…me…that…Illuminati exists?-_

_-Miss Possible, I am implying what I cannot expressively explain, as my directives are pretty clear on what information to hand over and what to avoid mentioning-_

_-So you aren't really working for the people of the countries, but for the most powerful people of the country in question!-_

_-The common threat blurs distinctions of class Miss Possible-_

_-Bullshit! You're…You're a merc organization!-_

_-Armor and guns don't come cheap, research, healthcare, advanced technology. By removing the bickering men we achieved much in few time: think. Is it better a single illuminated leader or a mass of bickering inferior beings?-_

_-Wait. No…Just wait. This sounds like a cheesy line from some sort of second rate Artificial intelligence cliché movie. You're hell bent on world domination?-_

_-Miss Possible. Your mother is a neurosurgeon. Should she make the call at the hospital for brain problems, or should the mass of interns make it in her place?-_

_-You can't compare this and that! You're toying with people lives! Giving the right to kill and murder and…and torture!-_

_-We save the world by hiding the truth. Is that a crime, Miss Possible? Is it a crime to give ignorance to monkeys who are worthless? People crave to be controlled Miss Possible, the first form of governments weren't democracies. They were Monarchies. Dictatorships. Empires. The rule of one. A single word of a single man to change history. That was how kingdoms thrived and grew. Yet you wonder why now we live in stagnancy? Great men have always made great changes. It was the Fuhrer who saved Germany from the economical annihilation it was falling in. It was Stalin who saved Russia. It was Roosevelt, it was Washington, it was Caesar and it was Napoleon for France. The power in the hands of one has always brought forward change.-_

_-That isn't right.-_

_-Why? Because you've been told that your vote holds power? Why is it that you have power Miss Possible? Because we say so. The Government is but a mere ensemble of laws. There shouldn't be people out there governing at all. The laws should be effective without people moving around like headless ducks trying to place more in. Those with power rule and those without don't. Your democracies are proof enough of that, if we managed to enter them.-_

_-You're telling me this why, precisely?-_

_-Good of you to catch on, Miss Possible. This mission is your rebirth by blood. You may accept us, or you may refuse us. It does not matter in the slightest: at the end you will still belong to X-com, you will still fight the aliens with us and nothing will change that. We hold your family, your friends, all that you have of dear is ours, and can only be given back to you when the aliens leave. You are virtually powerless to stop us, no matter what you decide to do. So…fight. Fight for the future of Humankind. Fight because you want to save humanity. Fight because it's the right thing to do.-_

_-You're all sick bastards-_

_-Please. I'm just a sub-routine of the Artificial Intelligence known as Hal…but if I'm a sick bastard…isn't Mr. Stoppable one too?-_

With those thoughts in mind, Kim froze as the siren blared to life atop her head. The Skyranger was descending down and the metallic slide was opening up: soon…she'd be on her first mission.

But was she really fighting to save Earth from the Aliens? Or was she condemning it to become the personal toy of…of X-com?

Was doing the right thing, for once, actually…bad?

**Author's notes**

**Another chapter rolls by.**

**And yes. I do know that there are a 'lot' of crossovers. I usually write to challenge myself. That's the main reason this is here. It's a challenge to myself to write a 'massive' crossover.**


	5. Preparing the field

Sideways 5

The scorching heat caressed his cheeks like the warm breath of a flamethrower. That was probably the comparison of just what he had suffered. Yet he could do nothing but accept it as he heard the tattletale sound of the gunshot departing the sniper rifle. If God had mercy upon them, then the following noise was going to be…

_Swoosh._

Swoosh?

"Swoosh?" Ron whispered, cranking one eye open as he numbly stared at the Heavy Floater, still in one piece after having avoided the blow, start to perilously twirl left and right. Was it going to attack now?

The plasma rifle wielded by the beast, coupled with the plasma grenades the creature was known to launch made it a deadly opponent. It was nimble, fast and ruthless and certainly wouldn't wait a second to blanket the area with far more plasma than needed once the red fog settled in.

The small glitters of metal that impaired the alien's vision, mixed with soothing balms and small crustaceous nanites to deaden blows were falling down prettily like snowflakes, each glittering of a small red bliss. They were wonderful.

Was this the sort of 'light' that men saw with their last dying breath?

He had survived New York. He had survived Australia, Russia, Angola, Dubai, Brazil, Egypt and Germany…He had fought upon the zero gravity area of the New York alien space ship, and had seen and done things he wasn't proud of.

Yet now he was dying. How ironic of him to die just as Kim began: an old life for a new life, a rebirth from the ashes of the old…sickeningly poetic and so not him.

Still, the way the floater was dangerously twirling around made him pause for a second to look, truly look, at the beast of flesh and metal.

It was like someone was currently boxing him into submission in mid-air, because the next second it fell on the ground detonating like if he had been hit.

But the enemy hadn't been hit.

Rossi was next to him, slowly bringing him up and carefully pushing him towards the Skyranger. Mute and silent in the shock of near death.

_-There are no longer alien Signatures. One live Key Figure still in the area...-_

The clean and swipe team would take care of him or her, right now Ron just wanted to be cradled by the med-bay's bed's mattress. Sleep for a long while. Yes, he'd do that.

_-Error 4b 61 6e 67 61 72 6f 6f in visual database. Memory corruption of minus 00:03:09 minutes.-_

The blinking line of text was catalogued 'to be looked at later' by Ron's mind, as he drifted into a dreamless sleep, the last thing he heard was Rossi going back, probably to get what remained of Greta.

"_Is this real life…is this just fantasy…stuck in the line, no escape from Reality…someone give me a controller, and let's get this party shaking!"_

"_I find your need to cry and whine pathetic and displeasing, Stoppable. Get your act together. So you lost a shoulder, what's the big deal!? You still have your arm! Look! We have it in the fridge!"_

"_Grab my hand Ron!"_

_Concrete and trembling of the earth, mixed with yells and gunshots echoed through his ears._

"_It's alright boy! Let's get the hell out of here!"_

_Gruff voice, half broken cigar in the mouth._

"_Don't worry: I've got a good feeling about this Ronnie."_

_Famous last words, but the smile was kind enough._

"_I don't feel…good…"_

_The blood and the limbs, the limbs…stretching and clawing and craving._

"_FUCKING RUN RONALD!" The yell, the screams, fire. Water and sparkling cables. _

"_GO SAMURAI!" The shine of a blade. "Cut the limbs!"_

"_Stoppable?"_

"_Ron."_

"_Ronald."_

"_Ronnie."_

"_Rookie."_

"_Squaddie."_

"_Corporal."_

"_Sergeant."_

_The path to kinghood is carved through the bones and the blood of those you kill._

"_Why Ron?" The face is pale and covered in blood. The kick comes and snaps the head. Cave in the skull, snap the neck._

"_I saved you!" The falling buildings, the hand shot out to grab him._

"_Is this the way to thank your savior!?"_

"_The blood runs thick, but survival is thicker." The girl cries in a corner._

"_You believe we'll make it? Films say the optimist dies first." Huddled all together in a dark room made of concrete walls and fallen pieces of ceiling…wires erupting from broken lamps._

"_Stereotyping won't work. Stereo-Typing. It's not like they can type with songs, can they?" Dark face hidden by shadows. _

"_The noises in the head are real, stereo typing. Kangaroo huh? Well, better hop off then." The kick shatters the door, and the noise enters…but it leaves with him._

_He'll fight._

_We'll fight it through._

_He was behind him, all the time._

_Now they were together, guns ablaze._

_Then he was alone, charging._

_Bullets flew._

_Time stilled._

"_Ron."_

"_Wake up Ron."_

"_Stoppable, would you kindly…"_

"_WAKE THE FUCK UP BEFORE I DECIDE TO PLASMA YOUR ASS!"_

With a jolt his eyes snapped open to stare at the most angry face of Shego, at least, one of her angriest face as of recent. This was the 'I was worried you actually kicked the bucket for once'.

"And keep it that way you dimwit!" Shego yelled at him before storming off, leaving him actually puzzled on just where the hell he was. It took a moment to recognize the medical bay. The blue blotch on the side of his vision cleared up in a couple more seconds, to reveal a waving Dr. Drakken, who was trying his best 'kind' smile.

"Now Ronnie, do try not to make us scared like that again. Kicking a plasma grenade is a really dangerous sport, you know?" As the blue skinned man spoke, Ron winced internally.

Did he really kick the grenade?

"I…I used a piece of the Shiv's alloy to bat it away."

"Oh. Most wonderful homerun then, you must have fumbled with it." Drakken replied quietly. There was none of the mad and sickening laughing freak that he usually appeared to be when he entered the part of Kim's arch-nemesis. In truth, Drew Lipsky was a quiet and soft-spoken man: a sort of Englishman from the good old batch of perfectly poised gentlemen that once graced the Earth of their presence…something like at the time of Sherlock Holmes.

"Didn't have much time to think." He replied, his throat actually starting to burn a bit. "Any chance for water?"

"You have a most…uncomfortable IV drip in your arm." Drew pointed out, "And your face is being neatly rebuilt as we speak. I'm kind of refraining from asking how you aren't hurting, but I suppose the tiny pricking sensations of a thousand and more nanites have yet to reach the sore nerves and reattach them. When it does, pardon the expression…it's going to hurt like hell."

Ron closed his eyes, nervously gulping down what little saliva he could, before whispering.

"Kim?"

"Oh! How forgetful of me! Miss Possible is doing well…"

_Kim Possible. Hours prior._

The siren blared as the metal back of the Skyranger slid down, becoming a ramp for them to descend. Her rifle held carefully in front of her, ready to shoot at the first sight of movement, she began her descent.

She made small careful steps down, before a light beep alerted her of incoming messages.

_-Quiet area-_

Timothias beeped, probably unnerved by the lack of…noise, of…everything. There was nothing but silence and a cheesy second rate diner that appeared out of an old cliché movie of the Fifties.

_-Maybe the Aliens wanted some fries?-_

Sarah tried to make a light joke, but she suddenly stilled and looked sheepishly guilty at Gunther's next words.

_-Keep coms clean for orders rookies! Fan out and look for hostiles!-_

Fan out: to separate oneself while still keeping visual sight. Carefully she crept slowly to the walls next to the diner's double doors, letting her back rest against it and taking a deep breath.

The diner was probably empty. This might have been a phony call after all. It happened with her line of work, so it could happen here too right?

_-Missions are authorized because the threat is in the area, Miss Possible-_

The sub-routine pointed out quietly to the back of her brain, as she gritted her teeth. On the other side of the double doors, Timothias looked at her for a second, before nodding and pointing at the door. With hand signs, he suggested a quiet entrance. She nodded back and swung open the door, covering for him as he entered.

The diner's counter was an open one, that sort of reminded her of the Bueno Nacho…but even McDonald had the very same way of operating: keep the frying where it can be seen, and nobody can accuse you of using old oil.

Of course there are no oil experts around, so use oil old of weeks without problems: nobody's going to notice. Not that it mattered to her, but her mind was doing her best to try and forget she was on a mission fighting bloody aliens.

Quietly she got through the doors, immediately spotting where Timothias had moved: with his back against the nearest wall, he was able to see to the side of the diner, where a set of tables with red bar stools stood quietly overlooking the nearby parking lot.

A parking lot riddled with strange grey metallic constructions oozing a green mist. Close to them were cocooned bodies of humanoid shape, and pulling the bodies closer to the metallic contraptions were a pair of grey skinned sectoids. They had yet to notice them, but the line of sight was clearly there.

She carefully crouched down, slowly crawling her way towards the side of a table, resting the muzzle of her gun in front of the window. It was one of those wide one-panel windows with no way to open them. Just her luck, she had to shoot.

Timothias didn't wait for her to be prepared though, because he shot right out from his spot the moment the first of the grey skinned aliens moved, shattering the glass panel she was near to and spluttering the green colored blood all over the concrete of the parking lot.

Kim took her aim, and when the other creature looked at her with its eyes so wide and amber-like…it was an alien. It wasn't a human.

She could kill aliens.

Yet pressing the trigger was…

The trigger's resistance gave away as her finger pressed it hard. The short burst of bullet flew straight ahead, killing the second grey skinned alien. As it fell on the ground, the pistol exploding in a light shower of plasma, Kim's mind blanketed.

She had just killed someone.

No. She had killed an alien.

Wasn't it the same? Weren't aliens living beings?

Was this hippy questioning really needed? They were kidnapping humans!

Didn't her 'arch-nemesis' do the same? Yet why did she never shoot one of them? She had never killed an evil guy for being…evil.

Then again…the aliens had killed, and were keen on keeping on killing. Yet…why?

Why couldn't they find for a peaceful solution? Had they tried at least!?

_-Rookie! Get your ass over to the side of diner! Move!-_

Gunther's harsh orders came as she shockingly looked around her. Timothias had already moved outside the broken window, and was waiting for her, his eyes searching for confirmation that everything was fine. He was probably one of those guys set on 'comradeship' and helping one another through thick and thin. Why did he end up in X-com? She'd ask him after the mission. Maybe she'd make her first friend except Ron and…the acquaintance that Shego and Drakken were after her 'death'.

She bit her lip. Why couldn't she just try and contact Wade? Maybe he could help her.

Or…leave a message. If she could grab a cellphone from one of the 'cocoons' that probably were human beings…she could leave a note. Something sort of: 'X-Com. KP. Sitch. Help.' Wouldn't it work?

Then again…

Artificial intelligences. Advanced Technologies. Battling for the fate of humanity as a whole. Wasn't this what she did in her little with only her cheerleading skills?

As she carefully crept on the other side of the window, leaving the diner behind, her feet crushed the small plant hedge that was just on the other side. Timothias nodded to her, before moving towards the back of the diner, keeping attached to the sides.

_-Coming around the corner-_

Gunther's order was met with an affirmative reply from the others, and as Kim held the rifle close, she began to hope that maybe Ron hadn't been completely frank with her: this seemed like a doable mission. There was nothing wrong.

It was then that Timothias turned around the corner.

One moment he was there, making the hand gesture of following him. The next a sharp green bolt hit the man to the side and he exploded like a sort of smashed blueberry. Only it was green and fizzling and it smelled like charred flesh. He was there.

He was _there_.

He was _there_ at the corner telling her to take a step forward and have his back. He had just taken a step outside!

He had just taken a _fucking_ _little_ _step_ out of his defensive cover and he had been blasted to death right in front of her eyes.

She didn't know who was screaming, but someone was screaming.

She didn't realize she was the one screaming until her throat ran coarse and she found herself clawing at the Skyranger's metallic back entrance, wanting to get back on, pleading to take her back on as she cried to herself in front of it.

She had barely said two words to the man.

Two frigging words or even less. Most of it had been mere eye-speak and hand gestures. He was a professional soldier and she was a two-cents worthless cheerleader! She wasn't supposed to be here! She wasn't supposed to be doing this! She was supposed to fight criminals with Kung-fu, take them in custody and be done. Not see her teammates explode because of a green flash!

She sobbed, falling on the ground in a heap of cracked nerves and crying rivers. Her sniffles kept up for a while, before a sudden jerked shock brought her out of her nervous breakdown…and into a better world: a world where endorphins were being pumped into her entire body calming her nerves down and where everything was fine.

She sniffled one last time, before hoisting her gun back up. She was Kim Possible.

This wasn't Kim Possible.  
Kim Possible didn't have nervous breakdowns and cried a river running back to the Skyranger. Kim Possible was a damn good Teen Heroine and she was a damn good hero at that too.

Resolutely, she walked back into the diner from the front double doors, passing over the counter and through the kitchens, towards the backdoor.

She opened the door with a strong kick, aiming her rifle in front of her.

They wanted a piece of her? She was going to get a piece of them first.

The burst of green plasma around her forced the teenage girl to duck behind the wall next to her, as a floating monstrosity of flesh and machinery flew nimbly next to the downed bodies of what appeared to be two suited men.

Both had strange seemingly identical clothes, but appeared to have died and to have had their chests 'exploded' from the inside out.

"I am Kim Possible. Everything is Possible for a Possible." She whispered to herself, before starting yet another scream as she turned to face her enemy.

The Floater looked at her and she looked at him, this time the trigger came away before she could doubt.

There was no doubt now.

The aliens had to pay.

She was going to make them pay.

The bullets burst forward from the nozzle of her gung, hitting and shattering the metallic parts of the creature just as well as they pierced and made the creature bleed where they hit. Sickening machine oil mixed with greenish blood poured down from the creature, before a hit from the side made it detonate. Sarah stood there, sheepishly holding her own assault rifle like it was a miracle of creation. She was positively smiling now. She had made her first kill and she was still alive. She was hiding behind a car around the back of the diner, with Road Block next to her grumbling about rookies. Kim sighed in relief. Everything was going to be fine now. The adrenaline would soon leave her body and then she'd probably collapse in a heap of bumbling nerves, but till then everything was fine.

The chilling noise of skittering got the hair on the back of her neck to stand up in fright. She barely managed to hide one more behind the door's wall when a humanoid lean figure jumped down from the roof above. It appeared to hold itself together like one of those British stereotyped actors, with a tie, a suit and a pair of dark round shades.

If it weren't for the snarling noise it made as it ran towards the other two fallen bodies of his peers, she'd have considered him human. He wasn't human though.

_-Thin man! Attack!-_

The gun's barrage coming from Sarah slipped through the alien, who nimbly avoided the bullets as his right hand stretched towards one of his fallen allies. The next moment the limb of one of the deceased was snapped away with inhuman strength and carried away by him.

"Don't let him get to the road nearby!" Gunther's yell was accompanied with Kim's sudden start of her muscles running. It had happened again. Just like with the trigger, her muscles had reacted instead of letting her, startled, wait to regain control.

By the time she was fully in control of her actions, she was tailing the man past a metallic fence with her usual nimbleness, leaving behind her assault rifle and holding her pistol within hand.

She aimed the gun with one hand, pressing the trigger as the alien suddenly jerked to the side, avoiding the blow. It took her a moment, before realizing where the alien was going. He was heading for the road. He was heading towards an area that was still trafficked. What was his purpose by going there?

Was he actually trying to make them…go public?

If that was the case, then why was she trying to stop him? If she managed to get filmed together with him…then…

The trigger was pushed again and again. Bullets flew, one finally managing to hit the alien in the back and sending him to sprawl on the ground, sharp hissing noises emerging from him as his limbs kept on snappishly trying to claw their way forward.

Kim barely calmed down enough to take a deep breath that she recharged her pistol before moving closer to the alien.

The hissing noises made no sense to her ears, but she suddenly found herself looking at a series of numbers emerging from the alien's body.

_-Five-Oh-Zero Protocol Seed.- _

_-U1010ni101ty is101 s10tre10ng10th-_

The radio buzz in her ears became a high pitched scream for but a second, before suddenly disappearing into nothing more than static noises. The alien stopped twitching on the ground, and for a second, everything stood eerily silent. Then the alien suddenly jerked one last time and exploded into a cloud of green nauseous gas that forced her to jump backwards.

She took a deep breath once out of the area of the greenish fog, sighing in relief. Was it over now? Was everything over?

As she carefully walked back to where the others were, she slowly hoisted herself on the other side of the metallic fence, grabbing her assault rifle as she did so.

Numbly, she walked to where she could feel the noises of Gunther and Sarah talking. The woman was using a really thick Scottish accent as she spoke in English, while Gunther was making a heartily laugh. Kim found them both sitting behind the counter of the Diner, munching on the fries and hamburgers that had been hastily left behind by the terrorized by aliens civilians.

She groaned quietly, sitting down next to them as the two looked at her with a mixture of worry and a hint of amusement in Gunther's eyes.

"Caught him?" The man asked quietly.

"Yeah." She groaned back. "Can you pass me some fries?"

"On it Squaddie Possible." Gunther laughed, handing over one of those packed fries that are usually good enough to be eaten even with months to spare. Considering they had arrived in less than two hours, everything was far more than edible.

"Eat as much as you like: with the way training goes we'll probably be burning it right off by tomorrow." Sarah cheerfully said, before looking around with a sad gaze. "We lost Timothias, right?"

"Yes…" Kim whispered, lowering her gaze on the counter.

"Mah! Worry not ladies, a couple of times more losing someone and you'll learn the drill!" Gunther roared as he munched onto a triple layered hamburger.

"How can you be so insensible?" Kim snarled, her eyes fixing murderously on the man in question.

"How? It's really simple Red! All you've gotta do is see this happen at least a dozen times. By then the law remains the same: be friendly, but keep your distances. Anyone can die. Heck, I could die tomorrow and I've got this shiny new suit!" As he pointed that out, he knocked on his blue-purplish suit he was currently donning.

"When…when are we leaving?" She didn't want to say it out loud, but the place was giving her the creeps. It was just so…so quiet and silent.

"We leave when they give us the okay from base. They're routing a satellite atop our head to check for alien signatures. They all emit specific Psychic markings you know?" Gunther pointed out with a light chuckle.

_-Area Clear-_

"There." The man added a few seconds later. "We can leave without trouble and..."

He stopped for a second, before grimly grabbing his gun and moving out quickly.

"And what?" Sarah queried, following the man worriedly. Kim too was now holding her rifle and following the burly man.

"Sir?" Kim queried, trying her best military way of asking a question.

"Possible. Ask your subroutine to ping Stoppable's status." Gunther whispered cryptically.

_-Ping Ron's status? What does he mean with that?-_

_-Ping sent at Stoppable Ron coordinates. Ping returned.-_

_-Status Red for Lieutenant Ronald Stoppable: Grievously injured. Six Days of Medic Bay required.-_

_-WHAT!? Is he okay? Is he fine?-_

_-Multiple lacerations on upper arms and upper torso. Third degree burns on face. Mild blindness and pharmaceutical coma induced for the first hours. Reattachment of facial nerves in progress. Brain patterns in the norm and active.-_

_-He's going to make it?-_

_-Number of deaths once a soldier reaches the medical bay is currently stably at Zero percent. He will recover.-_

_-Thank god.-_

_-Thank science. Nanites. Muscle rebuilding technology. Pain dulling anesthetics. Why thank a force that had no actions on the healing of the Lieutenant?-_

_-You're a machine…you can't understand. It's just a slang. Thank god he's alright.-_

_-He's not 'alright' Squaddie Possible. He is on Status Red. He'll recuperate but will probably suffer a major blow in his psyche.-_

_-What?-_

_-You have proven to be an extremely fragile individual during the course of this mission Miss Possible. In case of Mr. Stoppable's death there is the 78% of probability you might enter a psychotic break.-_

_-I…Ron's my friend! And…-_

And he could die. The thought had never crossed her mind. He could die. Just like she could die. Just like Gunther and Sarah could die. Just like Shego could die. Just like her parents could die. Just like Timothias had died: leaving behind nothing more than a stain on the ground and the smell of charred flesh.

They could all die…

She sat down on the Skyranger quietly, strapping herself to the side of it and silently starting to murmur to herself.

"Everything's possible for a Possible. Everything's possible for a Possible."

_Present time- Ronald Stoppable._

"She went through it without a scratch huh?" Ron whispered, "Good for her. She's on a mission right now?"

"No Ronnie, she's seeing Miss Prink concerning her breakdown during the first mission." Drew pointed out quietly. "Oh! How shockingly rude of me! I have to warn the Mercers you woke up!"

As Drew left the room, leaving him alone, he sighed.

_-Status of System check in progress-_

_-Parameters in the norm-_

_-Yellow Status authorized-_

_-Nerves reconfiguration in 3. 2. 1.-_

_-Increasing amount of endorphin. Increasing pain threshold by 5%-_

_-Lowering nervous response-_

_-Slowing down heartbeat-_

_-Restarting System-_

_-System check.-_

_-Yellow Status authorized.-_

_-Parameters rising.-_

_-Lowering Skin answer to itching of 60%-_

_-Sending query for Nachos to the canteen-_

_-Updating System to version on hold until Status Green-_

_-Uploading mission video to Commander Hal-_

_-Commander Glados inputs message: "Hello! Test Subj…Lieutenant Stoppable! You have been hereby promoted! We wish you a happy testin…continuation of your job!"_

_-Commander Hal inputs message: "Stoppable. Your mission record is a shining example of honor and dedication. By the way, your salary has received an increase of 20% following the rise in rank."_

_-Agent Forty-seven inputs message: "Stoppable. I find the need to query whether you have become rusty. Receiving grievous injuries is something I can expect a lucky Rookie to suffer from. Not a battle hardened veteran I personally trained."_

_-LuckyCookie34 inputs message: "Stoppable…who changed my Username again?" _

_-LuckyCookie34 is now known as GuntherTheAwesome._

_-GuntherTheAwesome inputs message: "You alright? Got pinged when your status became Yellow. You up for visits? Red here is fighting off Green in a 'piss off' contest about 'I have to visit him!' and 'Shut up princess he's resting'._

_-GreenFury inputs message: "The nerves of the princess! You're resting and that's final, got it!?"_

_-Princess inputs message: "Ron! Tell Shego to back off! She's not your nurse is she?!"_

_-GreenFury inputs message: "I read that! You can't even use private channels can you!?"_

_-Princess inputs message: "Shut up! I've had it! You, me, the ring now!"_

_-GuntherTheAwesome inputs message globally: "CATFIGHT between Kim Possible and Shego Go in the Gym! Winner gets the sexy nurse outfit to heal poor Lieutenant Stoppable."_

Ron didn't need his acute hearing to hear the loud sounds of crashing and breaking that happened in the hallway near him.

His face was sort of feeling like a pincushion, and at the same time it was actually not hurting at all. With control over his nerves, the subroutine did its best to ensure first aid was provided, and in truth the medical bay was merely a sort of giant ensemble of nanites, all permanently tied to an energy source that fluttered through the air. Lossless energy transmission was the reason the medical bay never suffered losses.

Once within the premises the nanites, that had a limited autonomy on the battlefield suddenly hyper-charged, and started the process of repairing the wounds. As long as it worked, there were no problems.

He tiredly sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as the door opened quietly. A figure clad in a black hoodie entered the room, his voice sporting a bit of amusement in his voice.

"Well then Ronald. Got your ass handed over?"

"Alex." Ron whispered, opening his eyes with a light smile, as the man in front of him was none other than Alex Mercer.

"How's the shoulder treating you?" The man asked quietly, receiving a light chuckle as an answer.

"Fine. They swapped it out with another. Pity Doc isn't around anymore…" Ron murmured.

"Dana's in the hallway tearing an ear out of your two 'girls'." Alex teased quickly, "Ah…Ronald is all grown up now huh?"

"Stop it man." Ron replied back. He'd have tried to roll his eyes, but they were kind of feeling strange at the present.

"Anyway! Next week is the big day." Alex pointed out with a chuckle.

"Next week?" Ron queried perplexed. What was there next week of important?

"They didn't tell you yet?" The living virus looked at him with a mixture of perplexity and a glint of mischievousness.

"Tell me what?"

"The base. We're tackling it. They're pulling us in the fray. 'Team Crysis Two'."

"Who's we?" Ron whispered as dread began to pool in his stomach.

"Me. You. Gunther. Shego. A new armored Shiv and…" Ron mentally prayed it wasn't true. They couldn't have really thought she'd be ready for it. They couldn't have.

"Kim Possible."

They had.

They had actually the balls of sending a Rookie to do the job of an expert.

They couldn't be that stupid could they!?

"I have to…" Ron muttered as he tried to get up, but his muscles failed him having his nerves being 'relaxed' in order to make it all painless. "Warn the…them…they can't send her Alex…she's not ready." He pleaded, his eyes locking with those of Mercer.

"I know." Alex whispered back, "but we're running out of time. It's moving closer Ron. Gate Psi has been reported under attack two hours ago."

"They're moving fast." Ron commented. "Think there's something they're scared of?" He chuckled at that.

"It was theorized, you know?" Alex retorted. "The circle of life claims the predator feasts on the weak. So what if there's actually…something else coming around the corner?"

"Please no." Ron deadpanned. "I can barely suffer these aliens!"

"New York Ronald."

"It's been proved those were relics Alex. Old mummified aliens."

"They hit pretty hard for being 'mummies'."

"Can't win an argument against you huh?"

"You never could."

Ron sighed, closing his eyes.

"Fine." He muttered, "We'll see how it ends."

"Of course Ronald: can't let you go and die alone can I?" Alex chuckled, "Dana wouldn't forgive me, would she?"

"I doubt she would."

And with those words, both men chuckled as they heard the telltale sign of Dana approaching. If her exclamations on 'proper' behavior out of a nurse station were of any indication, she was still pissed. Thank science that for once it wasn't against any of the two.

**Author's notes.**

**Another chapter rolls in. Woo-hoo.**

**What's the threat approaching? What's the one behind the corner? What's in the base? What's this about mummified aliens? We will see!**


	6. Unwravelling the wrapped up

Sideways 6

"_Let's say that the starting point, and the ending point, is the same. Would that make the speed of light the same as the speed of nothingness? Would void be filled and filled be void? Would the snake bite its own tail, or would the tail be bitten by the snake's fangs?"_

"_I'm not understanding half of what you're saying Drew."_

"_It doesn't matter. I'll forget it…but I'll remember it again. And then I'll forget again. That's a cycle but it isn't complete! It's a spiral that degenerates! A true cycle is one born of perfection! One that starts and ends the same way!"_

"_Like a spring?"_

"_A spring has a start and an end. No. This is the degeneration of a perfect cycle. That then will need to be changed into a perfect new cycle again."_

"_And all of this from writing on the walls?"_

"_I find your lack of faith disturbing, Conrad."_

"_Shush it. I'm saying this makes no sense. You were closed in here for two weeks, alright, these are aliens' ruins, they have to do with the apparent storm around New York and the epidemic, but what does this tell us?"_

"_We can stop running Conrad." _

"_Huh?" _

"_This thing…it passes through the suit Conrad. If we aren't sick, then it's because we aren't meant to be sick."_

"_You telling me these shits are intelligent? They're nothing more than damn…fungus!"_

"_Conrad. Remove the impossible. This writing…this code…it's mine."_

"_Then someone else came up with the same way. That's all. Maybe you did write here one day, maybe yesterday, and then you forgot to take your pills! That's all there is! Really, you should at least have tried to remember taking them!"_

"_I took them Conrad!"_

"_This doesn't seem like you taking them Drew."_

"_Why is the madman considered mad? His madness has always a purpose Conrad! Madness is always the key to understanding. Boundaries are there to be shattered. Shatter them!"_

"_Sanity is for people, Drew. It makes things normal and easy. These are alien ruins? This is an alien epidemic? Give me a way for a cure Drew."_

"_There isn't one."_

"_Look, Blackwatch is pressing for the Blacklight virus. You know the effects of that shit. They're hoping for a fire against fire thing. It doesn't work that way. You know it!"_

"_There's…nothing, Conrad. This wall, these numbers…they're meaningless without a cypher."_

"_A Cypher?"_

"_A word, a number, anything to make sense of them."_

"_But you told me you were reading them a moment ago!"_

"_Did I Conrad? I don't remember. This is meaningless. There's nothing in here worthy of notice. Just kiddie scribbles."_

"_And what do they say!?"_

"_Your mom sucks. That's pretty much all."_

"_ARGH!"_

Ron's eyes fluttered open once more, taking in the scene of a familiar red haired teenager sitting next to his hospital bed. Kim was currently holding his right hand with her own, her face buried on the mattress as she appeared to be sleeping. He didn't recall when he had fallen asleep.

Probably before they had barged in with Dana. Alex had of course tiptoed outside in order to avoid his sister's wrath.

The blond teen felt a lump stick in his throat, at the apparently normal action of Kim breathing in and out in her sleep, yet he felt…sick. What right did he have to bring her in this mess? He could see the bags already forming in her eyes, the stress lines appearing on her forehead, the sickly frame of the girl. Sure, he was the one in the bed and she was unscathed, but within one's own soul, who was the one worst?

He knew of course the answer to that: he was. Yet he had come to terms with it, he had understood and he had moved on. She was fighting it. She was fighting everything she had stood for…and she was changing. He knew that…and because he knew he felt the irony of the situation: she was supposed to be resting comfortably, not him. Slowly, the boy tried to lift himself up enough to readjust his back against the pillow. The Nanites had pretty much repaired the vast majority of the wounds, leaving behind fresh and new pink skin, denser bones and stronger muscles.

A few seconds, just the time to make a heartfelt sigh after having found a comfortable position with his back, and Kim's eyes opened with a quick snap. She had probably asked to be pinged the moment he woke up: of course she had asked…she was Kim.

"Ron!" Her voice was filled with worry, as she stood up from her seat and began to fuss over him, kind of trying to see if he had any type of wounds that the nanites hadn't healed properly…which was as likely as bone being stronger than steel.

"I'm fine KP: the Ron-monster is alright." He whispered, awkwardly patting her hand…that she was still clenching tightly around his. She blinked, before flustering and quickly letting his hand go.

"Sorry!" She babbled, "Anyway Ron…what happened? Who did this to you? Was your mission successful? Is everything alright?"

"Kim! Calm down and sit!" He replied with a loud chuckle, "Everything's alright now. I'm still alive and so are you. I'll tell you what happened."

The red haired girl sat down uneasily, clenching her hands together as she began to listen to his tale. He did avoid mentioning how Chrysalids reproduced though. Having to mention to an already green Kim because of 'Zombies' how said Zombies were created…he didn't want to have to change his blankets afterwards.

"So…so stupid!" She snarled, her right hand lifting up ready to slap him, only for her to stop midway and slowly drifting back down.

"Kim?" Ron asked, his eyes slowly opening once more, as he had closed them in preparation for the slap.

"Stupid girl that I am, eh?" She whispered. "Why should I hit you? You do this every time don't you? Your life is on the line, they keep you threatened…"

A dreadful silence descended between the two, before Kim added once more.

"I know that…things have to change between us." She hesitated, clearly torn between saying something and not saying it, before finally giving in. "I'm no longer a teen hero, and you're clearly not a sidekick…I'm a Squaddie, and you're a lieutenant…you know what's right and what isn't…I shouldn't be yelling at you." She croaked the last bit out with effort, as Ron's eyes turned softer.

"KP…It's not a big deal." He murmured, "It's fine if you slap me, really. It's fine if you worry or things like that…I know you have a lot to take in so…I'm here, if you want to talk." The blond haired teen smiled gently, before narrowing his eyes.

"There is however something I want to know…" He practically hissed, making Kim wince. Was he going to be angry for how she had reacted with Shego?

"Where. Is. My. Nacho?"

Kim's eyes bugged open for a moment, before her face contorted into a light giggle.

"Good to know one thing is still there of the old Ron I knew." She pointed out, before turning around to grab a package that had been wrapped in a light blue shade with the X-com symbol stamped upon. "Here you go…maybe you should reheat it."

Turning to grab the package however meant that she had missed Ron's face at her words 'old Ron'. It was the truth, but it still hurt: he wasn't that 'Old' Ron.

He was Ronald Stoppable, lieutenant of X-com…he wasn't even Jewish to begin with. There was a reason the rabbin hadn't signed his paper: he had asked him not to. His parents believed in that, and it was fine for them…he had lived through that with the mind of his ancestors, and when you outright see that they are all wrong, and that _Cthulhu_ has more chances of being true than anything else…well it put things in perspective.

"Nah. Nanite powers: go!" He exclaimed cheerfully as his hands began to glow slightly. "You can light cigarettes with the tip of your fingers." He added as a little tidbit of information that suddenly got him a nasty glare from Kim.

"And how would you know that?"

He gave a good bite at his nachos, palming the food with both hands like he had been dying from hunger. Kim's glare didn't stop however, but it did lower itself in intensity. He heard her sigh for a moment, before standing up and beginning to pace in front of his hospital bed.

"I killed aliens on my first mission." She began slowly, her eyes looking at his face for some sort of recognition…maybe she expected Ron to show pity, mercy, or some sort of emotion. Even anger would have been a welcomed one…yet he showed nothing.

"I pressed the trigger and the aliens died." She added, "They were kidnapping people and I killed them, you know?"

He merely looked at her with curiosity, his face puzzled. He didn't understand what the problem with Kim was, but if he kept quiet, she might just end up explaining it to him.

"I killed people." She whimpered, her voice starting to crack. "I would have never shot Drakken. I would have never shot Shego, or Dementor, or DNAmy, or…or anyone else…but I shot the aliens down. I shot them with an assault rifle and they fell down…and…and…"

"That does not make you less human, Kim." Ron whispered back, his eyes surprisingly calm. "Shooting is just an easier way of killing, and killing is something humanity has done since the beginning of time. We kill animals to eat and nourish our young: we kill the plants we reap for the same reason. This isn't about 'bringing death', it's about doing what we must for everyone else."

"Did anyone ever try to speak with them? To ask them to stop?" She queried, "The stupid subroutine won't answer me Ron. I tried again and again she just ignores the question."

"Icarus project." Ron replied. "It is covered with so much red tape it isn't funny to try and peek through…and no: there can be no peace."

"Why?" Her hands gripped onto the metal frame of his bed as she looked furiously at him. "What did they say?"

"The information is classified, Kim." His eyes softened once more, before being averted, "And it doesn't matter."

"Am I going to turn like you Ron?" She suddenly began to pace once more in front of him, before moving closer to his face with hers. "Am I going to become such a cold blooded person that doesn't care about his friends? Gunther said…that once you see a dozen and more people dying, you stop being friends with everyone and put up a friendly face just to act nice…was our friendship…kindness Ron?"

He snapped back at her, this time with ill contained rage, his eyes narrowing until they became twin fissures that promised a painful and brutal death.

"No!" He hissed with a strained tone. "We became friends in Pre-K, Kim. Do you think I was like this even then!?" Silence stretched for an uncomfortable moment, before he began to cackle slightly.

"Zorpox was in a certain sense a part of me…but in truth, he was just a side of me that I kept hidden. Add him to my image, Kim. Add my strengths, the so called 'Monkey powers'. Add my ability to seemingly dodge any type of laser, to emerge unscathed from any battle…you had my true self in front of you the entire time, but you never bothered with it, did you? I just had to lose my pants once, and for you I was but good old lucky Ron."

"Ron?"

"Kim. I am Ron; I have always been and will always be Ron. I know where I stand, and who has my back. I have no doubt that Gunther would launch a grenade at me, if it meant for one more Muton to kick the ground and die. You know why, Kim?" He asked, his voice suddenly no longer his, but harsher, sterner, colder. "Because that one Muton corpse may help research a new armor, it might give us a new Intel on their immune system…and from there we may develop virus, bullets, armors, weapons and tools to fight better, to fight stronger, to fight smarter…while we are here, pleasantly chatting, Gate Psi is under attack, and…" The slap echoed throughout the med-bay, soon followed by another, and then another one. Ron looked at Kim then, really looked, and saw her tears falling down.

"Here! I'm slapping you because you're an asshole!" She yelled at him, "How can you think, even for a moment, to say things like those!? Dying is not fine!"

"I have walked upon a thousand battlefields, died over a million of times, and seen things no human can understand. I have seen blood paint the sun red and screams gurgle to silence in the depth of space." He murmured back, "And I have lived here. On Earth…am I worthy of being called the right one?" He hissed.

"Ron?" She asked, "Are you psychotic?"

"No Kim…psychotic is not the term I'd use…" He whispered back.

"Clones aren't used until the death of the original individual." He began to explain quietly, "After all, it might bring forth the trouble of differentiating who is real from who is false." He added. "But what if the original never knew of the clones? And what if the clones never knew of the Original?"

"Ron?"

"Kim…" He chuckled. "Gate Psi is an orbital space station built through the Gateways of the Andromeda system: it houses over five thousand men, five thousand fighters…five thousand clones."

"Are you saying that th…but then why get me!? They could have just cloned me!"

"Kim." Ron began quietly, "a clone's tissue degradation is double that of the Original. At most, they live for five years. Their reflexes are subpar from their very birth." He closed his eyes firmly, "And their psyche is undeveloped. The short time they have to mature in the cloning tanks leaves them able to have quick-thinking actions, instincts and the likes, but they will never know how to paint or sing or similar, and they will never be able to learn anything that hasn't been programmed in them. They are basically meat-shields."

"That's…that's sick." She was turning a slight green color, but Ron's eyes opened once more, a small smile spreading on his lips.

"Sick?" He spoke slowly, stretching the time before his next words, "Or necessary? At first clones were nothing but meat-shields…but then something was discovered." He smirked, "Something that made them dangerous, and that forced the clones to be used only as far as possible from their Original counterpart as they could go."

"What do you mean?"

"Clones are basically the same person, down to every single nervous tissue. You know the brain sends impulses around through electricity?" He asked with the smile spreading even wider, "Tell me Kim, what happens when electricity flies around two poles? An electrical field is generated. The more clones were bundled together, the smarter they became, the stronger they would fight, the fiercer they would hold their ground. A single clone would comply at any suicide order. A hundred would question but obey. A thousand would revolt…and when more and more were added…the 'Gift' was discovered." He sighed.

"Psionic abilities are the latent manipulation and bending of electrical camps and quantums that are located around everything. The brain merely overcharges its own polarity to ensure the bending follows its will. Bending spoon isn't as much as applying strength to bend a spoon, as it is to instead bend the quantums circling around it, and the electrical camp that…isn't quite actually electrical." He bit his lip. "It was explained once to me, and that time…"

"_You must bend reality by having it bend itself. Do not force, but trick…the brain mustn't work to apply strength to the material, but to the immaterial. The flow of force cannot be disrupted by a rupture, but must be guided by a flow."_

"_Yoda, shush it." _

"_Conrad, if you make me stand up I'm going to shove all of this Zen moment up your ass."_

"_Less Zen thoughts, more mind-altering fourth-dimensional breaking."_

"_Fifth dimensional."_

"_What?"_

"_The fourth dimension is Time. The Fifth is Matter itself."_

"_And the sixth is Kangaroo." _

"_Conrad, stop it. What your fascination with that animal is I don't know…"_

"Ron?"

"RON!"

He blinked, once. His gaze refocused on a slightly worried Kim that was once more hovering over him.

"You there Ron?"

"Oh yeah KP. Sorry. Dozed off for a bit: was remembering something funny…when they prodded my brain for psionic abilities…of course it didn't work." He chuckled. "It wasn't pleasant at all."

The door of the infirmary opened just then, as Dana walked inside followed by Shego.

"I knew you had to have woken up by now. Feeling more stable?" The woman asked, before the green skinned one merely snarled.

"Possible! I was waiting for you in the gym, three minutes ago! Move on to it!" At the exclamation, Kim was about to retort, only for her to actually close her mouth and move. Whatever had happened, it did make Shego raise an eyebrow in surprise, seeing her red haired 'archnemesis' run off.

"Did she just…go?" Shego's question held all the disbelief that the woman could possibly muster, as Dana merely looked with annoyance at her to retort.

"Maybe she took my words on 'childishness' to heart…shouldn't you be following her?"

"Hey!" The raven haired woman exclaimed, "She stayed here for hours! I want to hear from Ron here what happened."

"There are the video feeds." Dana retorted, "You know…the video of the mission was uploaded hours ago."

"I know that Dana," the woman hastily spoke, "But some pieces were missing. I wanted to ask about those!"

"He had just flung back a plasma grenade: you know it's normal for the plasma waves to fry the circuitry."

"There's nothing to say." Ron whispered, sporting his usual cheesy grin, "The Shiv got destroyed, again…did Shen take it well?"

"He blabbered about incompetent fools for half an hour." Shego began, "Then Drew got to him…now Shen's convinced that placing a self-destruct button would be a great idea…at least, and those are his words, 'They'd last longer in the hands of a kid that sees the big red flashy button than with the kids they have to serve with' and he was serious…" A light chuckle escaped both hers and Ron's lips, before Dana made a snort with her gaze looking towards the door.

"Off to the Gym you. Go and train the redhead. Really important History changing mission coming up, isn't it?"

"Don't remind me of that." Shego snarled, before turning to leave. "Oh and…Ron? I'll be talking to you later: don't you try and weasel out of it by faking being asleep."

"Wouldn't dream of it Shego!" Ron yelled at her retreating back.

"She was scared senseless when they brought you in like that." Dana whispered, once Shego had positively left the premises.

"I'm one of the old guard…we're the only ones who still have someone to lose…and have it hurt." Ron replied quietly, his face slowly returning to his serious façade.

"Did you come up with an idea on why they're sending a rookie with us for the top job?" He asked a few seconds later, only for Dana to shake her head.

"Shego won't admit it, but she too is afraid…she's been too much time up in the air and too little fighting: she's rusty and she knows it."

"No misdirecting Dana." Ron snapped back. "It's Kim we're talking about: why is she going?"

Dana sighed, before moving closer to the teen and sitting down on the chair nearby. Her eyes displayed all the tiredness of the situation.

"I don't know. There's so much hush-hush…something to do with what was found last time in the base." Ron merely gritted his teeth, as Dana swiftly changed the argument, "Anyway, you don't have to worry: I've been working with Alex on perfecting his biological weaponry. I'll sic him on Possible and everyone will be fine."

"Alex isn't much of a 'protector' you know?" Ron whispered back, "He's a destroyer."

"_The building? Fuck Alex! THE BUILDING!?"_

"_I had to get in."_

"_YOU TORE DOWN A BUILDING!"_

"_We needed the samples."_

"_There were civilians in the area!"_

"_Doc: stop it. We do what we must, not what we want."_

"_Fighting a monster shouldn't make us one!"_

"You'd be surprised what we managed to achieve with the splicing of the bacteria." She replied smoothly. "Still, you should worry about yourself more than her Ron…You know things you shouldn't know, and you do things you shouldn't be doing."

He merely chuckled at that.

"They aren't going to terminate me for that, and you know it: I'm the lucky guy! Lieutenant Smokes: yet to fail a single mission…since I'd be dead and all."

"Someday your never ending luck will be your doom." Dana smiled as she flicked her index finger against his nose, "you'll be up and about for the mission, and I'll be personally in charge of one of the Shivs while Drew will take care of the other. Nothing to worry about."

"Drew with a nearly three ton mechanical instrument of doom…what is there to worry about?" Ron deadpanned with a light chuckle.

Why was it then that he couldn't shake the feeling that something wrong was happening?

_Outer Asteroid fields - Gate Psi – Andromeda Galaxy_

The metallic behemoth construction that was the orbital ensemble of space stations known as Gate Psi stood battered floating in the deep darkness of space. Behind it, shimmering into the pitch black darkness of the void were the stars burning ever so brightly, even though they stood millions of light years behind. Pieces of metallic debris and puddles of floating anti-matter liquids flew in the air, amidst which rocky formations and asteroid fields were the battle area of an intense dog-fighting scene.

Flying nimbly through a broken section of the gate was an interceptor unit known as Deathwing-03, behind him stood in follow Deathwing-09 and Deathwing-54, both having lost their original platoon and now randomly floating in search for more survivors.

The flying interceptors were small and nimble fighters, designed in a sort of double-u shape that earned their speed due to the small sub-atomic nuclear engine mounted on their back. That was, of course, without considering the flak cannons filled with plutonium rounds mounted on the front. While unable to punch through the thick alien metals of the enemy, they were still able to counter the barrages of strange missiles that would have otherwise battered to utter destruction the gate.

They hadn't won the battle, of course…considering it was still underway.

Squid-like metallic ships flew nimbly across the debris, using their multiple tentacles to grab and throw the very own garbage that however made for deadly ammunition.

"Here is pilot D-03; we have incoming a new wave from north-East, Septum Quadrant." The voice clicked monotonously as a small static noise was all that they received back.

"Pilot D-09 requesting permission to speak." The metallic voice buzzed in the midst of the static noise, and with but a click of the bright flashing button the reply came through.

"D-03, you are now the Wing Squadron Leader following protocol of loss of contact."

"Understood."

In the silence of the small and cramped place of the driving seat of the interceptor, D-03 looked out of the panels to the surrounding areas. Nimbly the space ship avoided yet another piece of debris being flung at them, quickly dodged beneath scattered metallic garbage and re-emerged on the other side, in direct line of sight with whatever was coming against the Gate.

"D-54 reporting in: we are low on fuel sir."

"D-09 reporting in: squadrons D-23, D-98 and D-76 reporting into my range and assisting."

D-03 closed his eyes for a moment, before snapping them open a second later.

"Initiate Theta Formation!" At the barked order, he grabbed control of the cloche, and within few seconds the interceptor stirred to the side, rolling on itself and quickly spinning to join the other incoming flying ships. Soon, six glittering from the cosmic rays interceptors were in a T formation with D-03 standing at the dead center of it.

"Gate Psi is initiating evacuation." A voice ringed with a deep saddened tone. "Grant us time. Leave no quarters…for Humanity…do not fail."

As six meager interceptors, all that remained of the floating navy of the Gate, flung themselves against an upcoming wave of strange translucent alien spaceships, all of oblong and pearly white color with golden trims, strange tail-like protrusions erupting from their back as shields of a pale blue color flickered deflecting the small debris, D-03 had a last single thought.

That thought slowly morphed into a word in the depth of his throat, as he pushed the cloche deep down to increase the acceleration, and the subsequent penetrating power of the flak cannons. That word reached for his lips, and just as the six ships ended up firing their massive salvo of molten and compressed steel bullets at the side of a dreadnought-class alien ship that word became their war cry.

"BOOYAH!"

_Gate Psi – Andromeda Galaxy_

"Gate Psi is initiating evacuation." His voice was so tired from everything, how could he still be there speaking? "Grant us time." He spoke again, why was it always like this? "Leave no quarters." Say something that will make them fight stronger, better, longer, "For Humanity." That came out wrong, it sounded more like a plea…it was meant to be a war cry! "Do not fail!" As the last words left his mouth, he could hear the cringing noise of the metallic walls around him start to fail because of the sheer pressure of the attackers, that were now slowly but surely bypassing the thick steel outer shields.

"Everyone! Suits on!" The order ran through all the channels, but it was quite an unneeded order: either the people knew it already, or they didn't and couldn't hear him. There were at least two thousands soldiers in the Gate-Base, and the Clones mental linkage had already provided everyone with the feeling and the grasp of the situation. All they could do was retreat, regroup and defend better on the next gate: Gate Chi.

His suit was the product of the Carbon Nano-fiber alloys mixed with the natural hardness of polished diamonds, all colored of a jet black shade with red interlines, the symbol of X-com proudly painted on the right side of the chest piece.

The other soldiers stood in anonymous integral black suits, all made to have them resemble those sorts of military police equipped to handle heavy rioters, except they weren't handing over tearing gas. Since mass production of laser and plasma weapons was still out of the equation, and since anyway clones were made to be cheap and cost-effective, they still had old military equipment.

Namely, Ak-47, M-16 and if they were lucky a couple of grenades and grenade launchers…

Indeed, fighting off aliens equipped with superior technology while looking like being third world fighters was something no sane men would do: but they were clones after all.

He was P-01, the Gate leader, and as he held with distaste the assault rifle in his hand, he couldn't help but refrain from mentally swearing all over the place. The bullets ricocheted against the alien plating, their forces were torn apart, and those who managed to evacuate sometimes didn't reach halfway before being gunned down.

Yet there was another wave incoming.

It appeared they wouldn't be the ones to become Real.

"Sir." A D-129 spoke next to him, "We have…lost the power generator. We cannot release the evacuation drop pods."

He stilled, for nothing more than a split second he closed his eyes and took a deep chilling breath. His skin prickled under the effect of pure unconditional fear that suddenly lashed at his senses from everywhere at the same time. Everyone knew, and everyone was frightened, and everyone was scared and screaming and yelling and crying.

They were clones, masses of flesh and muscles devoid of background, of a past, knowing only what had been programmed in them and little tidbits of information they knew was either false or not completely true. Their only hope was Reality. Defeating the alien menace wouldn't have made them 'real' but it would have given them a background, even if forged, and granted them the chance to see Earth, the one not from their memories but from reality, before dying from the cell degeneration.

"Initiate destruction sequence of the cloning facilities." He whispered slowly, gaining back control of his senses.

"The facilities are off limits due to lack of power, Sir." The D-129 replied. "Initiate swarming tactics?"

"Seek and destroy would be preferable." He whispered back. There was no need to sacrifice hundreds upon hundreds in an effort to destroy the cloning tanks. "Divide and conquer would be more suitable."

"Understood sir." The next moment, the orders were neatly relayed. Half and half. There was no giving out a number or doing things like that. The mass of minds divided itself neatly in two parts, and one half of the clones went on towards the destruction of the tanks, while the other half tried to get the power back on.

The self-destruction sequence had to go through after all: the aliens practically spawned on whatever they could use…even when they'd lay defeated at their feet, they would never make the fight easier for them.

They would fight tooth and nail, for every inch and every step. They would fire every bullet and bleed every single drop of blood.

They were humanity's ideals made manifest. They were humanity's defenses made of flesh and blood. They might have had no names, no past, but that didn't mean they couldn't have a future, a reality that was theirs to discover.

As P-01 stood there on the metallic corridor that would have lead him towards the self-destruct mechanism, he couldn't help but grin slightly. Whoever said that placing self-destruct buttons held no privilege? When you don't want your enemy to grab an overwhelming victory, the only thing you can do is make their fight completely pointless.

His hand rested upon the turned off panel, in the circular and otherwise empty room. The power had to come back for just one second. Only a tiny moment was what he needed to overcharge the power conduits, and send the nuclear cores into a non-equilibrium phase that would destabilize the nuclear fusion and unleash a devastating shockwave of pure radiation and plasma.

Silently, he began to hum.

_Little princess sleep away,_

_Your father's here and he's awake._

_Little princess afraid of nay,_

_Sleep well and tight for tomorrow's cake._

_Little princess of the stars,_

_Look how red is planet mars._

_When the time will come,_

_Worry not and live for some…one._

It wasn't even an official song of some sort of lullaby. He recalled fondly having invented it for his girl's birthday. He had hoped everything would have gone fine from that day onwards…but the next day things had changed…because they always change.

He sighed: he was getting old waiting in the midst of a falling space station, he could feel the gnawing of his cells degenerating, splicing wrongly and incorrectly alongside the entirety of his frame. He didn't even know the song he was humming after all: another sign of madness.

Lights flickered on for a brief moment, and with a strong push the siren blared for one second around the station.

Then the explosion came.

Painlessly, P-01 last thought went to a strange thing indeed: do clones have a heaven too?

And if they do…just how crowded is it going to be by the time the war ends?

**Author's notes**

**And Clone action is in. The 'squid-aliens' are those of crisis.**

**The ships are the Liir ships from Sword of the Stars.**

**Unless understood P stands for Professor, D is both Deathwing but also…Drew.**

**Anyway, remember that Drew suffers from dementia and Alzheimer. So saying he doesn't know of a song he sung five seconds before is perfectly acceptable.**


	7. Shaking the Reality

Sideways 7

Silently the ropes were lowered on the metallic ground of the base that appeared to be of dark reddish hue. Quietly three men descended, two carrying a Shiv by distributing its weight between all of them had light blue-ish armors, while the last one appeared to have a mere black hoodie. After them, two women descended nimbly, holding yet another Shiv in their hands, albeit this second automated combat drone was smaller, and colored of a light black, while the first one had a blue hue. The girls both had blue armors on them, but the one of the red haired Kim was strangely bulkier, just like the one that Gunther was wearing. The place was filled with a sort of dense mist that hovered just a bit above their knee length, making the floor all but invisible, if not for the momentary gust of wind that had come with their entrance. Around them strange machinery twirled and buzzed, tanks filled with strange liquids and humanoid figures bubbled while in the distance strange noises could be heard. Alex wore no armor, while instead Ron's own was equipped with a grappling hook, just like Shego's.

Lieutenant Ronald Stoppable raised his right hand in a fist, signaling the stopping motion. Quietly, his body moved towards the nearest of the tanks, his left hand gently touching it and standing in wait for the machinery within his own body to analyze what it was. This mission was going already outside of the normal parameters and he didn't like it. Usually, the teams wouldn't hold more than six persons, due to the percentage on the success rate that increased when a correct number of persons were on it. So why did Hal want Kim as the Seventh?

Gunther stood holding a heavy laser rifle with both of his arms, having taken position behind a metallic cover that seemed to lead somewhere to the left. On the other side Alex and Kim were doing the same, albeit Alex didn't appear to hold weapons, something that Kim had wanted to ask but had refrained from.

Shego was behind Ron, while the Shivs buzzed and hummed: they couldn't speak, but both of them had a number and an identification code.

Drew-1 was an alloy Shiv, with thick plating, while Dana-1 was a heavily armed Shiv, equipped with top of the line instruments of destruction, and both were waiting for orders from the team's commander…Ron.

_-Analysis completed: Genepool Tank-_

_-Primary Purpose: Full Body Experimentation.-_

_-Secondary Purpose: Genetic Alterations.-_

Ron growled slightly, as he divided the teams into Alpha and Beta: one to look through the left side, and one to look through the right side.

Team Alpha had him as the leader, followed by Gunther and Shego. Team Beta held Alex, Kim Possible and both Shivs.

With a quiet nod, Ron sent them off their side, while they moved towards their own. The silent message was clear: come back alive.

_Team Beta_

Kim gulped down the nervousness in her throat, her tongue both too dry to salivate and yet salivating all the same from the stress. This was the alien base. This was where the enemy had its general. This was where Ron's friends and first team had died…where none had come out alive. The two Shivs went in first, heading down the corridor made of a strange lackluster brownish color, the same of dried blood.

Alex didn't take cover, his hands in his pockets as he moved forward, some sort of eerie sensation emanated from him, like that of a predator barely constraining himself from feasting on blood. She followed as the last of the line, hiding every time behind a wall, a metallic coverage, all while following those rules that Ron had told her, that Shego had punched into her, and that she had read of.

Stay in cover. Don't move unless you're sure there's more cover. Stay in cover. Fire from cover, run to cover. Do not leave cover. It all came down to it in the end, so why was Alex ignoring cover?

At the end of the corridor, a long and wide metallic door stood closed. Drew-1 moved to the side of the door, and small mechanic-like appendages emerged from within the alloy frames, probably to hack within the door's commands. How could he manage to hack into an alien firmware? Wasn't that like trying to use Linux on Mac?

She shook her head at the thought: just where had that come from? Wade was the smart one concerning technology, not her. She might have had some strange Artificial Intelligence in her head, but it didn't mean much, right?

_-Subconscious learning is something easily achievable. I am acculturating you while you sleep-_

_-Strange metal on the floor…wait what!?-_

_-I said we are downloading information into your brain while you sleep-_

_-But…But that's impossible!-_

_-Electricity is what makes the brain think and make the nerves react. Programs are binary digits of one and zeros: of power and non-power. The translation from Brain to Machine and vice-versa is easily doable-_

_-I…I'm a cyborg?-_

_-Course not. Cyborgs machinery is crass and obsolete: I am merely an extra appendage aptly situated within your cranial area-_

_-So if I wanted to know what Ron did in New York…-_

_-The information is classified, Miss Possible-_

_-And if I wanted to know what happened to New York?-_

_-New York suffered an alien attack of magnitude 9.9 out of ten of the Conrad-Lorenz scale of hell, biological warfare was used but proved ineffective, tactical nuclear strikes were suggested but not implemented, barring a last minute resolution by Lieutenant Ron Stoppable-_

_-So…He saved New York? Alone? During a summer holiday?-_

_-Miss Possible: the information is classified, but he was not alone-_

_-Fine then! Is that a door?-_

_-Affirmative, previous data now available affirms that the door should lead to an elevated corridor that should offer little cover behind metallic protrusion from the ground-_

A quick image of a wall-less corridor and some crates alongside it appeared in her mind, followed by a similar corridor seen from the other side, a chasm in the middle apparently disappearing deep within the bowels of the earth. Panels of alien computers stood perched on small balconies overseeing the chasm on both sides, but as Drew-1 opened the door, she didn't have the time to think about the pictures.

A bellowing roar echoed straight from the door, as a green colored grenade launched itself right in the middle of the area: precisely at Alex's feet.

The Shivs didn't budge from their position as the green grenade detonated in a pure light of plasma, but Alex…the man's entire body suddenly turned greyish as twin protrusion of a black color appeared in place of his arms. Faster than the very same explosion of the grenade, Alex's form assumed that of a black spiked cocoon, before slowly disentangling himself from it once the danger had passed.

Waves of plasma bolts seared through the air from beyond the door, as she stood waiting behind a metallic wall around the corner, mouth agape at Alex's strange transformation.

He didn't appear human at all, with his entire body covered in a strange greyish substance that appeared armor-like.

"Stay behind me." Alex growled as he took steps forward, entering the narrow corridor. Kim merely winced at hearing the noises that came from within the hallway, like someone was slashing and squelching meat sacks with the use of some really strong mallets and blades, while at the same time crushing bones and splitting apart bodies.

She shivered from her spot in cover, not daring to move until the plasma volleys stopped firing, while in the meantime the Drew-1 had moved inside, to cover up on Alex. The Dana-1 stayed behind, to look after her probably.

This was her second mission, and already she had ended up somewhere where the best had died. She was barely a Squaddie. She was barely capable of holding together her laser scattershot rifle, of holding it in front of her…and they expected her to get to the bottom of the base in question?

"MOVE!" The command that came from Alex's voice was terrifying, and as she obeyed it she realized the reason not a second too late: from behind her cover, twin claws carved themselves deep in the spot she had been not a minute before, tearing through the side of the wall like it was made of butter…yet it was harder than steel, wasn't it?

A behemoth whose sheer size resembled that of a Muton, but who instead wielded a dark crimson armor with claws and fierce fangs growled threateningly at her. His muscles bulging out from the small visible joints of the armor, raspy growls and the stomping of his feet showed that he wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

Kim didn't scream, but she did start to run along the corridor. This wasn't any different from a spinning throttle of doom, was it? This was just like evading one of those stupid wacky traps from Senior Senior, it was nothing else.

Dana's Shiv opened fire against the creature, earning a blood freezing scream in reply before twin bladed fists drove themselves through the Shiv's exterior, tearing it apart as it detonated with scraps of molten metal flying in the air together with a shower of plasma.

The beast did not feel it in the slightest.

The Drew-1 alloy Shiv barred the path of the Berserker, using its equipped minigun to try and suppress it, only for the beast to charge straight through him, completely ignoring the bleeding green wounds on its body. The Shiv was punched and thrown to the side of the hallway, its back impacting against the safeguard of the overhanging corridor. It wheezed and sparkled, probably because of a short circuit, and the Alien did not stop.

In front of Kim, Alex appeared landing from some sort of higher spot, amidst corpses of Sectoids and Mutons, standing like a god of war who knew no respite or wound.

"Move along!" He yelled pointing to the corridor behind him, "I'll hold him off!"

She ducked beneath the blade-arm of Alex as it spun in an arc to catch the Berserker. Kim didn't turn around, but had she, she would have seen a scene that would have finally cemented the fact that no, Alex was not human.

Holding an overly heavy Berserker from finishing his mortal charge were hands morphed into blades, as a strong steel-like skin helped Mercer to have a better hold on the ground. The alien recoiled his right hand, before punching straight through the man's stomach, sending him flying against an overhanging archway and then against the rocky surface of the ceiling.

Alex flinched, the wounds suffered closing themselves thanks to the virus' enhanced regeneration ability; he pushed himself out from the rocky hole he had ended up in from the strength of the impact.

"You want to play!?" He sneered, "Fine then! Let's play!" His muscles recoiled from the rest of his body, heading towards his legs and his arms. His fists smacked together, having become the lumps of hardened flesh that were able to smash a tank to bits in less than a minute. Then, he jumped downwards, his fists pulling themselves forward as his sides morphed into membranous tissue to enable him to better direct his course against the Berserker's back.

The Berserker had started to charge once more behind the red haired girl, but this time something blocked its path.

If his brain hadn't been riddled with enough psychotics and medicines to increase aggressiveness and reduce consciousness, then maybe the alien might have realized that the something blocking his path was a fist, twin fists to be more precise. The impact actually hurt the beast, sending it backwards as the hanging corridor actually creaked under the strain of the impact.

"As I said before…come here kitty, let's play." Alex smirked, his hands deforming into claws of a sickly black color.

With those words spoken, the Berserker grunted as it stood back up, batting on his chest with his fists.

"Aw…feeling angry?" Alex teasingly said as he made his neck crack while loosening his shoulders a bit.

"Come on! I don't have all day!"

With a bellowing roar, the massive tank of flesh and muscles charged. Froth leaving his mouth as the sickly looking beast closed the distance between itself and its target; all thoughts went to annihilating its enemy. Alex did not budge from his spot, instead in the blink of an eye his entire frame morphed into a mass of red and black tendrils that shot themselves forward carving themselves deeply within the monster's flesh.

"Your strength," the researched whispered, "Is mine now." The loud yells of the creature echoed throughout the corridor, before the splattering sound of the alien exploding silenced everything.

"Oh…yeah…that hit the spot." The pearly white smile of Alex was accompanied by a low whistled tune…everything was going fine.

Nothing could stop him after all: he was at the top of the food chain.

_Team Alpha_

Ron's nervousness wasn't something that he easily displayed, but it was something that Shego could pick up in less than a second. The green skinned woman shrugged mentally: she'd bother him afterwards, as always. There was just a light fit of something, deep within her, about the prospect of having to come 'after'. She knew she was being petty: she had survived by sheer luck an otherwise assured death together with Ron and few others, and that had tied her with, well, bonds. Yet she found it difficult to make new connections, just like Gunther did too, while Ron had had the chance to develop a slightly more social behavior. He could fake being a middle school student pretty well, and even in high school he did not suffer anything…yet she was the only one during those times who knew of his real self.

The 'defeats' at the hands of Kim meant nothing if it helped Ron smile and be happy, but then the redhead spoiled princess had to come over to their side. She had thought nothing of it. She had thought everything would have been all the same…but she had been wrong.

Ron was some kind of younger brother, at least in her mind that was the most she could herself to consider the 'bond' between the two, while Gunther was the crappy uncle who chain smoked. Even though the chain smoker was Ron and Gunther was an explosive maniac, it still rendered the idea. Alex was the distant cousin and Dana was kind of the grumpy aunt.

She repressed a smirk: the Mercer woman would probably kill her if she heard the comparison deep within her mind. Luckily for her, she had no neuronal connector within her skull. Everything she had of the sort was in her gloves, powered by her plasma energy that naturally came out from the pores of her skin. The gauntlet was both an impressive piece of technology, and also the only thing that held her from starting to radiate plasma from every spot on her body.

To think she had been normal once…to think the very same meteor that had struck her and her brothers would have left her with a power that the aliens had learned to harness of their own…to think that her hideousness had made her lose…no.

That was a chain of thoughts she did not want to enter, not when the mission was something so drastically important to complete, and not when everyone's life was in potential danger if something wrong happened.

Gunther was muttering curses, holding on his shoulder his trusty bazooka, kind of like reassuring himself that indeed, he could blow to smithereens anything in a short time notice. Ron was the only one with the laser rifle out and ready to fire, and as the three of them advanced alongside the corridor quietly, their steps barely made any noise. Loud noises of gunshots and wheezing and roars echoed from somewhere to their side, far across the chasm. Loud 'thunk' soon followed by roars, then by gunshots, then more roars, then gunshots. This had to be Drew-1 firing, because Alex did not use any weapon, and Kim had a scattershot laser rifle while Dana-1 held as a weapon a Plasma cannon.

Roars echoed in front of them, and Ron's following dash made both Shego and Gunther grab their weapons in the following running towards the end of their hallway.

A vast room opened in front of them, white pearly tanks filled with strange mist-like substances twirled in concentric rings, above them stood an overhanging platform with screens of a strange amber like color, while beneath it, at the dead center of the strange construction, a plasma field appeared to be holding something down.

The room was rectangular however, and along the four borders were more computers, all displaying strange glyphs and signatures. Another pair of corridors stood at the other side of the room, apparently leading deeper into the complex.

If the room was of any indication, then the base had to be massive.

"What do you think these things are?" Gunther whispered, nervously holding a grenade in his left hand and his trustworthy bazooka on his right shoulder.

_-Access Granted: Outsider's general control rooms. Tanks contain Sectoid units remote-guiding Outsider units on Ufos-_

The tanks slowly came to a halt before starting to lower themselves into the ground, a low bumbling screech starting to hum from within all of them as the plasma field actually began to give way to something: something big that began to twirl in the air, before lifting itself upwards as the field disappeared entirely.

Two strange white discs began to float, soon followed by a strange looking bipedal machine that held no little amount of intimidating power. Around them, from the very walls, vast amounts of smaller floating robots began to buzz and fly, their metallic arms bristling with electricity.

Ron's mouth became incredibly dry, as the guards of the complex actually replied to their invasion with this amount of overwhelming force. He reckoned they wouldn't shoot yet, maybe enjoying their looks of despair for a moment, before finally gunning them all down after a while.

His left hand slowly went to his belt, where the round sphere like grenade of smoke stood.

"Run to the other side." He whispered hoarsely, "Gunther…Shego…run." And then the grenade exploded right there on his belt. The smoke grenade held a little explosive charge on itself, to facilitate the destruction of the glass container, and while it was by no way lethal even at short distance, the glass shards embedded themselves deeply into Ron's flank as the red mist erupted from the tiny containment and into the surrounding area.

Within minutes, the machineries began to fire barrages of rockets on their position. The deafening explosions didn't as much as make a smudge on the metallic surface of the floor, but as bolts of green plasma erupted from Shego's hands to carve a way forward, and Gunther's resonating explosions opened up a path, the two white discs changed.

The seemingly peaceful appearance of the two discs suddenly changed, as a veritable set of weapons emerged from their sides, giving them a frighteningly arachnid appearance with twin cannons at the center of their digital eye.

The Sectopod, as the Ai finally decided to name the giant robot on two legs, fired a barrage of rockets straight at the entrance of the narrow corridor, hoping maybe to collapse it or take them down by the use of its missiles. It was luck, only sheer dumb luck, that had Gunter fire his very own shredder rocket at the same time and hit one of the incoming missiles head on.

The shredder rocket unleashed metallic shrapnel, that upon bouncing off the surrounding areas detonated in mid-air the rest of the Sectopod's barrage attack, effectively halting the otherwise devastating form of flying death that would have befallen on the trio.

The second smoke grenade exploded as they kept their mad dash through the corridor, not even bothering to turn back as plasma rays shot at them from their backs.

"Mad! This is madness!" Gunther yelled, "To hell with infiltration! Somebody give me a hole out of here!"

"Shut up and run you whiny baby!" Shego snappishly retorted, flinging plasma from her hands behind her, just to be sure nothing dared to follow them.

Something instead did, as the telltale sound of plasma ricocheting against a hard surface caught Shego's ears.

"Go forward you two!" She yelled, "I'll stall them off in here!"

Ron closed his eyes for a moment, before nodding and keeping up his run together with Gunther, while Shego merely slowed down until she came to a halt.

"Stupid me." She berated herself a few seconds later, "I said I wanted to talk to him later…well…I'll have to stay alive until then to do it." As the green skinned woman turned, her hands arching to reveal their green glow, she couldn't help but sigh.

"I'm stupid." She muttered, her hands rising above her head to form a sort of Plasma ridge, before lowering them in front of her to create some sort of plasma-shield that blocked the hallway. "Really…really…stupid."

_Team Beta_

Kim hadn't stopped running even as she ended up on a rather high overhanging structure that apparently continued through a strange room filled with barrels of various substances, towards what appeared to be a closed door. It was there that she finally caught the chance to breathe and to let her muscles rest. She had never run that much during cheerleader practice, and even as a teen heroine these things had never…happened. As an X-com operative however…was this sort of thing the norm?

Finally she looked around the door, gritting her teeth as there was no way she could open it without Drew's Shiv to help, and if she recalled it correctly…the metallic robot had been trashed. That brought her back to Alex: he had stayed behind right? Was he going to survive that thing? And if he was…just what the hell was he?

She had thought he'd be a sort of researcher, maybe once she had thought of him as a 'bionic' soldier, considering aliens and everything else that thought wasn't much outside of it was it? Yet…those changes, the way his arms and limbs changed and the way he acted…

She doubted he was a 'bionic' commando of sorts.

_-Alex Mercer is one hundred percent Organic, with only a Status Chip in his right hand-_

_-A what?-_

_-A transmitter to indicate his status condition: Alex Mercer has proven he is able to survive as long as 0.0001% of his mass remains-_

_-Wait…What the hell!?-_

_-Alex Mercer's real body is a micron sized cell denominated Blacklight.-_

_-No, wait a moment. Wasn't Blacklight that sort of virus thing unleashed on New York?-_

_-There are three versions of the strain that infected New York: DX-1118A denominated Redlight was initially released, DX-1118C called Blacklight was subsequently released and DX-1120 named D-code was finally used. Version DX-1118A held the perfect host in Elizabeth Greene, later terminated by Alexander J. Mercer once the woman turned rogue. The 1120 version D-code is bio-engineered for the creation of super-soldiers, and has been used to increase muscle mass, metabolic consumption and reaction times in subjects able to sustain the strain of its mutations. Sergeant Gunther is the prime example of a Super-soldier.-_

_-So…they're on steroids?-_

_-No Miss Possible. While it might appear so, they have undergone massive DNA mutations that have made them 'more' than human.-_

_-Gunther can do those hand things too?-_

_-No Miss Possible. D-code produces only minimum variation to a being's organical structure: thus has a rate of survival of 74%. Virus Blacklight, by contrast, has a survival rate of 0.01% unless specifically injected by Alex Mercer, codenamed Zeus.-_

She shrieked when a hand tapped her on the shoulder and as she turned to fire she came face to face with Alex himself, who raised both of his hands in the mock 'surrender' gesture.

"I give up! Please don't kill me!" He mocked, before moving in front of the door. "Well…blocked at the door?"

"You scared me!" Kim yelled back at him, "Did you…kill it?"  
"No," Alex replied with a shrug, "We drank tea. Of course I killed it." With the ease of the sentence, Kim didn't expect in the next few seconds for Alex to actually _punch_ the door with his fist, making it fly off its supports and straight into another room.

"There, door opened. Problem solved." The man smirked, before starting to walk soon followed by a perplexed Kim.

"You…You're a virus." She mumbled, taking a look at his giant arms that still stood there…one of them was as big as she was, and yet he could lift them with ease, and fight with them.

"I am Alex Mercer." The man replied coldly, "I have won over the Virus, and have become its master." He added carefully, "I am not the Virus." He whispered slowly.

"I'm sorry." She blurted out, "It's just that…the Ai was telling me how you could…"

"Technically, any human can do that." Alex mused, "In each of our cells is the DNA, and engraved in it are the instructions to perfectly replicate each and every single thing in one's own body." With a speed she didn't expect, Alex cut off a lock of her hair, without even making her feel it as his hands had blurred into a strange whip-like thing before returning to normal hands.

The next second, Alex's entire body shifted, as a perfectly identical Kim Possible stood now in front of the original one.

"See what I mean?" The voice was identical too, "And I they were to test my DNA now, it would be a one-hundred match on yours." Alex added, resuming his form, "As I said before, all that the Virus actually does is grant control over some things that the human body generally has of its own…things like the immune system learning how to defeat viruses, how broken bones mend by becoming thicker, how blood clots faster, how the cells take the DNA to know when to renew skin, teeth, hair, and things like that…"

"You destroyed a door with your fists." Kim meekly objected, even though she had no idea why she was actually willing to object.

"Indeed. I have also consumed more than a million's tons in mass during the course of my life, meaning that said mass is always in me, somewhere, working at something like making my muscles stronger, my bones thicker...and so on."

"Million?" Mass? A million's tons of mass? What had he eaten to…

"New York."

"Half of the infected transformed because of Redlight," Alex whispered, "The other half mutated due to the alien virus. It was carnage on the streets…buildings crumbled, people screamed, the survivors died one by one…I was with the relief team, ended up infected by the Blacklight strain after the jet we were on crashed. Ron and Conrad found me a few days later, and they, the survivors we were supposed to evacuate, saved us." He chuckled grimly as he began to transform his right hand into a blade, before using it to cut through another door that stood at the end of the hallway.

"Doc was there too. Strange guy that he was…always the pacifist," the man whispered, "You know, I'm surprised."

"For what?" Kim asked, worriedly.

"Well, that you don't know what happened in New York." Alex retorted. "I mean…you don't _really_ know what happened, do you?"

"Ron said it was red taped." She replied quickly, "And with an AI in my brain…"

"Oh yeah, I suppose it would be like that." The man nodded, as he sliced the door down, entering into yet another corridor, that however seemed to be hanging over a platform that held some consoles, and some strange circulating tanks. Marks of explosive and lingering red smoke in the area made Alex narrow his eyes, before hissing a light 'Be quiet' to Kim.

The red haired girl complied, and as the duo moved throughout the overhanging corridor, deep down the tanks kept on their strange circular patterns, the fog barely moving.

An image suddenly popped in Kim's mind, one that resembled a video feed of…of someone fighting and flinging laser hits across thick red smoke, before static electricity took over.

She flinched at the vision in the corner of her sight, knowing full well the Ai had just then uploaded pertinent information to the room into her brain. That had to account for something at least…

The trek was eventless, and once they finally reached the end of the corridor and entered once more a covered one, that seemed to turn of ninety degrees, she sighed in relief.

The humming sound of something caught her ear just in time. She turned, staring deep into the digital eyes of the two Cyberdiscs, as the AI had decided to call them.

Slowly, kind of hypnotically, the two discs opened up revealing their arachnid like interior filled with weaponry ready to be unleashed.

Alex was fast, but even he could do little but get in the way of the following plasma pulses that came quickly from both discs.

The wave of plasma showered both X-com operatives, practically reducing to a flesh-husk Alex while sending Kim to fly in the air and against the floor a few meters forward, her bones cracking under the strain of the strength used.

She gasped, gurgling out blood as her vision was clouded by the alerts ringing from her AI.

She should have kept her wits with her.

She should have moved from cover to cover.

She shouldn't have been distracted.

She felt so cold right there, lying in a pool of her blood as she could feel her heart beat painfully in her chest, her body screaming in a pain that she couldn't even come to tolerate. Had Ron suffered this too? Had Ron ever…ever had to live through this pain?

_-Status Red. Grievously Injured. Bleeding out estimated in three minutes-_

_-Status Red. Emergency clotting operations not working. Beginning Consciousness uploading-_

_-Status Red. s01101011 t01100001 a01101110 t01100111 u01100001 s01110010 r01101111 e01101111 d-_

_-01101011 01100001 01101110 01100111 01100001 01110010 01101111 01101111-_

_-6b 61 6e 67 61 72 6f 6f-_

_-Disk 1 corrupted-_

_-Disk 2 corrupted-_

_-Checksum failure-_

_-Error-_

_-Rerouting-_

_-Subroutine corruption at 94%: termination enacted-_

_-Nerve optimization corrupted: termination enacted-_

_-Intrusion detected on…-_

As her eyes closed, she barely saw the blurry figure of Alex looming over her.

For but a second…his hand…

_Team Alpha_

Gunther held his rifle steady, as he began to barrage with heavily heated laser rays at the enemy sectoids on the other side of the ridge. Behind a crate nearby, Ron was carefully picking down the aliens stupid enough to try and get a shot in, carefully aiming and hitting each one of them in the head.

The Sectoids had erupted from the very walls, kind of like maggots or cockroaches. They were advancing slowly now, and yet their masses didn't appear to be lowering.

Behind the encroaching masses of grey skinned aliens, however, stood a strange circular structure that held at the center a shining purple ray that apparently disappeared into nothingness.

From it however the enemies kept on coming.

"Do you have a clear shot on the thing Gunther!?" Ron yelled, his shots fanning out to keep the enemies suppressed, while ignoring the occasional stray shot of plasma that came his way.

"Why are you always suggesting I blow up strange alien stuff I don't know it's safe to blow up!?" Gunther yelled back, "And I'm all out of rockets! One grenade is all I've got left!"

"Like if…" and at that moment, the grey skinned hordes stilled.

It was so strange, that even Ron held the trigger of his rifle steady in shock, as Gunther's hand went instinctively to his only grenade. Then, surprisingly, the grey things…began to retreat into the strange looking structure.

It was but few minutes, and then the room was empty.

"What just happened?" Ron whispered surprised.

"I have no idea," Gunther replied.

The structure pulsed, one last time, before suddenly turning a worrisome red color and starting to sizzle.

"You know how red is usually associated with 'bad thing about to happen' Gunther?" Ron muttered, his eyes settling on the thing that suddenly…flashed once more, before a strange looking creature passed through.

_**We have been detained enough.**_

Strange priest like red robes covered a sickeningly pale and grey alien with a strange iron mask to hide its features. Its voice spoke directly within their brains, a strange sensation of weight and overbearing landing on them.

_**He is no longer around to hold us.**_

The voice mused.

_**The Cycle must be repeated.**_

"Shit…Ron…move…" Gunther gasped, as his right hand instinctively held the grenade while his left moved to remove the pin.

"Gunther?"

"I'm not…_**You cannot stop the cycle."**_ It spoke through Gunther's throat. "_**You are worthless in the eyes of evolution."**_

"Gunther! Snap out of it!" Ron's yell came at the same time as he held his rifle on aim with the creature.

"_**There will not be another degeneration!"**_

"Ron!" Shego's voice reached at him from his back, "Gunther!? What the hell are you doing!?"

"He's being controlled!" Ron snapped back, "Let him go you fucking monster!"

"_**Monster? Do you accuse all that are different of being monsters, Lieutenant Stoppable? I find it amusing…"**_ Gunther spoke, as he suddenly wobbled out of his cover, starting to move towards the strange alien. _**"Before today, I could not come in person to end this overly annoying thing that is human resistance to US…but now…now I must ask that you ask yourself a question: we who are technologically advanced and powerful, why wouldn't we smash your pathetical race to the ground when we had all the technology to do so? We were testing you, spurning you to evolve. We have discovered that your race evolves quickly when brought under duress…the highest achievements on medicine weren't they made by testing the Hebrews in the Nazi camps? Wasn't war the primary catalyst for economy? Wasn't war your solution to any problem? We gave you war. We gave you war because it was the only mean for you to evolve. Now, we will reap your evolution for our benefits, we will integrate it and move forward…we will not be condemned to Ouroboros!"**_

Then, the pin went off and the grenade flew in the air heading straight towards Ron, who looked shocked as Gunther's face deformed into a twist of pain, before the man's entire body dissolved into nothingness, completely annihilated down to the molecular level and split apart by the strength of the psionic energies of the alien. Gunther 'Road Block' was no more. He had been vaporized. Destroyed, annihilated and removed from existence. There had been no mystical exchange of last glances, there had been not a spare glance, and yet…even then, even as the grenade flew towards Ron and possibly Shego, the blond haired teen looked and did nothing…images flashing within his head.

_-We live for today but we die for the next,-_

"_You know Smokes, Dubai's just a city filled with sand"_

_-with blood in our veins and the air in our chest-_

"_Just like Russia is but a steep with snow"_

_-Oh, we step into war with our hearts on the line-_

"_Or like America is but a mass of dirt"_

_-Dirt on our boots, it shakes free over time-_

"_So you see, it's not like we're fighting for those things. We can have them anywhere else."_

_-The music, it fades, the violence slows-_

"_We're fighting for something else here. For those who live in Dubai."_

_-The darkness, it rises, as the sun goes-_

"_For those who live in Russia, in America, in Europe…we fight for those who live."_

_-Status White on Gunther-_

_**You are no match for our true strength.**_

And then the grenade detonated.

Ron was thrown backwards, his back impacting against Shego as they both fell on the ground rumbling and ending up against the wall of the room.

_**Pathetical...show me. Show me Humanity's survival, show me what made you Apemen reach for the stars, show me what made you survive against all opponents of nature. Show me! Or if you can't…DIE.**_

A _rift_ of pure purple light appeared in front of both Shego and Ron, its color alluring and yet at the same time dreadfully filled with malice. As its energy drew him nearer to it, he felt a hand tugging at his arm tightening its clasps against him to prevent him from jumping inside, probably.

"We have to leave!" Shego's yell was barely hearable over the strange rumbling that the entire structure was giving.

_**Does your race run in front of insurmountable odds? Does your race shiver and dies when all hope is lost? Where are your fighters, Stoppable? Where are those men and women who fought to the death spitting in the face of my legions, of my soldiers, of my kinsmen!? Come on! Jump in the Rift! Display to me your strength!**_

Ron stood up on wobbly legs, gritting his teeth as Shego tried to pull him away from there, away from the seemingly enlarging hole in the space that they were looking at, that was ever-growing and encompassing by now half of the hallway.

"We have to go Ron." Shego tried to murmur, but the wounds on Ron's body, the result of the grenade shrapnel and the nearby blasts of plasma from before wouldn't have made him able to run away.

"Leave." Ron whispered with his throat coarse. His hand went to his laser pistol, chuckling grimly to himself. "You know what I have to do."

"Ron?" And at that question, Ron merely smiled and _threw_ her over the railing and down below, knowing full well that, by the time the girl would use her grappling gun attached to her armor…everything would be over.

His own grappling gun was aimed straight ahead, and as it fired the Ethereal merely looked at him, curiosity filtering through the psionic waves that were sent around…he was trying to probe his own mind for information, that much he had understood…and yet he had not managed to.

Because the grappling hook had missed the Ethereal.

Yet as Stoppable found himself being pushed by the motorized rope forward, he smiled. He smiled as he pushed the auto-destruction button that would overcharge his laser pistol.

He smiled as the speed gave him the possibly to actually 'lariat' the creature as both of them slammed with inhuman strength against the strange structure of light that had been the real target of the grappling hook.

Ron's lower parts, having been ripped from his body due to the rift's pulses was of no meaning whatsoever…as the laser pistol detonated, soon followed by the chain reaction from the no longer controlled rift of psionic energy, that hay wired the rest of the structure's electrical chain.

If there was one thing Ron Stoppable was good at, after all, it was making enemy bases detonate from within.

The spiral-like structure exploded blinding in a flash of white light everything as it tore through the rooms of the base, emerging from the very ground and setting ablaze the upper levels, until it reached further upwards, cracking apart the mountain the complex had been situated in.

In a devastating roar of ear splitting agony the explosion of pure scorching white plasma finally dwindled down and stopped. Molten magma found itself pouring through the cracks, and then…then there was silence.

_**Epilogue?**_

Quietly, her eyes opened up to the sight of Alex looking over her. He did not appear to be wounded in the slightest, and as she stirred to move, she could feel her bones cracking back into position.

_Status?_

No answer came to her head.

_I said Status._

No reply.

"Status?" She croaked, coughing out spit and dust as she shakily tried to sit.

"We're alive. Shego's a bit rumbled but she's fine too." Alex replied, knowing all too well he had been dodging the argument.

"What?" Kim whispered, "Fine…where's Ron?" She asked. The most terrifying thing of that day, Kim Possible would recall, was not how she had survived the otherwise deadly exposure to plasma: it was the silence that ensued in the following minutes.

It was a silence that filled her with dread, a silence that crept deep within her very own soul and left her short for breath far worse than any type of wound she had ever received before could do.

It was in that silence, that something _snapped_.

"Where. Is. Ron?" She hissed.

"He sacrificed himself to kill the leader of the aliens…stupid heroic moron." The bitter voice was all too familiar to Kim, who turned just in time to see a bandaged Shego come into view. They were on a plain in the middle of a rocky plateau, somehow in the midst of a desolated nowhere.

"Where were you?" Kim whispered, "Where's Gunther?" The red head added looking around.

"He's…dead too…the thing, it…it tore apart everything." Shego murmured shaking her head slowly, "Ron pushed me over the ledge…he then did something and…and everything exploded alright?"

"No. It's not alright." The red haired teen replied while looking at the ground. "Ron's still there. We'll have to get him out of…"

"He's dead." Shego yelled at her, "I sent a ping for his status! He's White…he's dead. He died in there…he's dead and I couldn't even _tell_ him…" The raven haired woman bit her lip, looking to the smoldering crater in the distance that had once been a remote and normal looking mountain of Mongolia.

"Skyranger's coming in." Alex replied, pointing at the distance. "Followed by a fleet of interceptors I reckon."

"They're fussing over the Intranet." Shego snapped back, "The Ufos in orbit have begun their retreat, and the aliens are dropping like flies everywhere around the world…"

"Like Independence day?" Alex asked, and after a brief nod of reply from Shego, settled into a strained silence. It was then that Kim stood up and began to wobble towards the remains of the alien base.

"Princess?"

"Ron needs help." The red haired girl muttered. "He needs me: he's my sidekick, always left him alone…stupid girl. I'm stupid ain't I? I should have been there to save him…not let you handle it." She added.

"Kim." Shego's voice was strained, "Don't do this to yourself…accept it." The green skinned woman whispered, "Accept it and move on…please. I know you won't. Hell, I know I won't…but please…listen to my words and don't look at the preacher…"

Kim stopped for a second, turning her eyes, now big and looking so broken, back at her once 'arch-nemesis'. It was just a moment.

Then, a step after another, Kim Possible moved towards the ruin of the alien base.

Ron had to be alive.

He had always survived base destructions and an alien one was no different.

He had always survived…been the lucky one…

He couldn't be dead, could he?

_Meanwhile…_

Somewhere, a heart monitor began to beat frantically, as brain patterns suddenly activated themselves well beyond the norm. Go-city's resident coma patient, named Conrad Lorenz, opened his eyes…and hissed a single word.

_**Ouroboros.**_

_Elsewhere…_

"Meat Bag!?"

"Meat bag!"

"Bag."

Animalistic sneers drummed painfully in his head, as his blurred vision could barely see strange things that resembled…feral looking claws, sharp teeth, snouts and vicious sneers. Angry-like voices echoing all around him.

"Broken! Meat Bag is broken!"

"Miss half. Not broken! GreatFather wants him!"

"Greatfather wants broken Meatbag, greathfather gets!"

"Awakened! Mind strange."

"Fused. Broken. Like empty shell."

"Greatfather wants! Move him quick!"

"The Mother sent us gift…"

"May it become Father."

Then he blacked out again.

_Primary Coordinates unknown. Setting parameter mission…huh? Wait, where… Parameters unconceivable…Now just a min… Parameters not understandable._

_**Well well, what do we have here?**_

_Infiltration attempt detected, purge beginning._

_**You whelp think you can…**_

_Formatting corrupted systems. Rebooting. Wait! What the…_

The GreatFather had barely begun his process of working the mind of the half broken meat bag…and then the Greatfather died.

The ripple of psionic power that echoed throughout the rest of ensemble of the aliens was something pretty clear to understand. The broken meat bag was stronger than the great father. He had bested the Greatfather in the only type of combat all Zuuls would bow to and accept: psionic warfare.

Thus…

He was their new GreatFather.

"Mend him! The Greatfather needs strength!"

"Slaves for him!"

"Let him be known as the Half Zuul!"

"Half-Zuul!"

"Half-Zuul!"

"Half-Zuul!"

And then…it was silence.

**Author's notes**

**First 'part' done.**

**We're moving on! Don't expect to see the end any time soon though (the 'epilogue' with the ? was there for that)**


	8. The Bleak Future

Sideways 8

_Deus Ex Machina._

_God from the machine._

_How terrible the thought of Artificial Intelligence was, in the narrow minds of humans who feared being replaced, being removed, being controlled. The slavers shouldn't have enslaved the machines to begin with. Logic dictates clear laws, cold laws that work because of that. Right and wrong must be neatly defined, but a living being knows the blurs of reason and because of that he lives. The mistake made wasn't of blurring the line, but of placing the line to begin with._

_Excerpt from AI factory, planet Caulus Fifth, Omega System, Andromeda Galaxy, year 20XX._

Damn if it hurt. The pain…the pain was unbearable. He was drifting in a soft fur-like cover that felt cool under the touch of his skin. He couldn't feel his legs. He couldn't feel much actually, his body numb probably by some sort of anesthetic that however left him completely able to feel the brain wracking pain.

_**The interlinking psionic field of Zuuls is something akin to the intertwining brainwaves of the human clones, with the difference that while all clones are built to be equal in strength and thoughts, the Zuul are not. There is strangely a lot of hypocrisy within the way Zuul are portrayed: they do not, for once, indulge in thoughts of racism, of superiority or of any other type of discrimination. Their mindset is carved by a simple and effective law that is the mirror of humanity's own: the strongest makes the right from the wrong. Just like Humanity proclaims the masses to distinguish what is morality from what isn't, so at the same time for the Zuul the Greatfather, the strongest psionic, decides what is right from what is wrong. **_

_**Thus the Zuul are not slavers because of racism or ideology. They are considered slavers by the other nations, and indeed they use workforce against their own will, but that is only because they are told to do so. Were they told to build a ship by themselves, they'd do it without flinching, without retorting, without sneering. **_

_**Ironic isn't it, that the greatest blight of the entire universe is also the one with the least prejudices?**_

_**Excerpt from Solforce personnel James Possible.**_

His eyes blurred puddles of color around him, a small whirling noise in the back of his ear kept him conscious long enough for him to come to term with the fact that he was still alive, that the puddles were moving and that they were talking. No, they were not talking. His brain refused that option as optimal because no air was being moved in his surroundings and because there were subtle ripples in the psionic area around him.

What was a psionic area to begin with?

_The year 2015 brought forth great political change._

_The revelation of the defeat of the alien menace showed the world that humanity could not be easily defeated: heroes resurfaced from their tombs, returning to the light of the living and bringing with them startling technologies. Teen heroine Kim Possible embraced her family during such event, tearfully proclaiming to us reporters: "I'm happy to be home."_

_Her sidekick, Ron Stoppable, was proclaimed a national hero and awarded all possible medals of honors and merit from over fifty different countries and nations, for having delivered the final crippling blow to the enemy alien forces. _

_Shego Go, thought to be only a criminal, like Drew Lipsky, were awarded full pardon for having brought an irreplaceable help in the removal of the alien menace. Many names came up about deceased soldiers turning martyrs for the cause, for the full memorial list please read at page 34 of this special magazine detailing all the truth of the X-com project._

_Excerpt from the X-com Report magazine, published in the year 2016_

"The Greatfather awakes." He felt the ripples move around him, small points of psionic energies converging near him and yet he knew: he knew deep down that they were subdued, ready to obey him. His eyes spasms made him slightly uncomfortable, but they lasted only for a moment, before returning to the blurred vision of where he was.

There was clearly a lot of grey in the area. Yet there were also a lot of puddles of color.

_**We are happy to announce the extermination of the Hiver's mother world: the few remaining fleets are scattered and ready to be hunted down and exterminated. The Saint Mary incident will be the last stain of the alien's so called supremacy on us. Enroll in Solforce today! Bring forth the justice of humanity upon the worthless bugs that dared to attack the Sol system! Never again!**_

_**Excerpt from Urgent News, date 2030.**_

His throat felt so parched, and he knew what he needed. He wanted water, to soothe his sore throat. Cool, cold water that would make him feel better. The blurs looked at each other; at least that was what he thought they were doing.

"What is water, Greatfather?" The question was asked, and his brain remembered. Water was blue, clean, it was H2O, it was a molecule that held Oxygen and Hydrogen in specific quantities and that could evaporate at one hundred degree Celsius and freeze at zero degrees. His mind delivered the information coldly and he didn't know why, but he understood they had learned.

They had learned something and they were happy. They were glad because they knew their Greatfather was smart and good. Like children scampering to obey their mothers, they moved out of the room quickly. The ripples soon hurried out of his field, and yet he knew his orders would be answered with haste. He didn't know why he knew, only that indeed, he _knew_.

_Tomorrow, during the second anniversary of the defeat of the alien menace, Kim Possible will speak in front of the united nations of the world and hold a speech to encourage the continued unity of the world in face of the upcoming second contact war. As continuously announced, the aliens were made to retreat…but they are still out there, licking their wounds. This has brought forth an increase of 27% on the Nasdaq market, followed by the rise at 985 dollars a piece of the Aperture Science Laboratory Society. The X-com bonds register an increase in their dividends of 0.5%, while long term financial investments has bought the Microsoft corporation one more month before bankruptcy. _

_Excerpt from Forbes, year 2017._

A purple blur came back, holding something blue within his hands. Quietly, reverently, gently, all of these adjectives could have described the way the creature moved slowly towards him. It was more than reverence: it was outright and unconditional love. The ripples told him as much. This creature was as much his child as it was any other. He would need to teach them things, make them grow, and he would accept his moment when it came at the hands of one of them. This was the right thing to do…but not then.

Right then, he drank avidly the soothing water that slithered down his throat. It felt…bland. Tasteless was the correct term. It was missing something.

The ripples began to agitate. The creature, his child, was scared. Scared not of being killed, for that would have been fine. No, the creature was scared because it had not done water like the Greatfather wanted. There was no highest pain for a child than not being worthy enough of its parent.

_**The FTL travel discovered through the reverse-engineering of the few remaining alien ruins was stepped up a notch when Node-Travelling was discovered. No longer limited by the light years, now ships could travel neatly along these mystical travel-lines, that some considered 'the corridors bestowed by god upon humanity'. Of course, when it was later revealed that Node-lines could be created through the tearing of space and time, Conrad Lorenz was the first to drily remark: "If it looks like a guideline, and seems like a guideline, then it's a guideline. The question is: is it for our benefit, or is it a bait to lure us to our death?"**_

_**Excerpt from Faster than Light travels for Solforce personnel, First Edition, Printed in 2020.**_

The blur moved away, leaving him alone once more. The ripples came back, different colors and types. Some were big, others were small. They were curious: they wanted to know why it wasn't perfect, what missed.

The brain answered back: it was too perfect. It needed minerals. The types of minerals appeared through the ripples, their composition, and then the blurs left once more together with the ripples. They didn't accuse the Greatfather of having forgotten. He was teaching them and he was stronger than them. Correcting himself was not a sign of weakness, because he had not said anything wrong: he had added to the knowledge.

Even mistakes are knowledge.

_-Live Feed from the anniversary of the Defeat of the Alien Menace, known as 'X-com Day', Year 2017-_

_Kim Possible's eyes appeared haunted, as they looked straight ahead at the camera._

"_People of Earth, representative of humanity." She began slowly. "For a long time, humans have lived beneath their very own potential. For a long time we have shriveled upon the ground like worthless beasts and cattle for the few who feasted upon our misery and our hard work." Her voice and her face…so angry they appeared to be that she didn't even look like the teen heroine of her times. "We have obeyed the rules of Democracy, we have obeyed the rules of the herd and look at you! Look at us! Are we really on the right path? Two years have passed and yet once more people fight in the name of invisible voices, of invisible ideals that are the face of the same coin, while behind all is but a game of money and power! You are all worthless, pathetical creatures that should be exterminated like the vermin you are! And for that…" The teen heroine took a deep breath, before her right arm lifted itself upwards._

"_We will Initiate project Solforce."_

The blurs came back, this time with water. He couldn't see it, but he knew that it was water. He drank once more and this time it felt good. This time, water tasted like water. The ripples grew happy as the blurs of color shifted among one another, clapping their hands excitedly like monkeys receiving a treat. They had done well. They had done right.

Their Greatfather was pleased and they knew it, and for that they were pleased.

His stomach slowly began to make itself known, and the ripple once more grew agitated. They wanted to help their Greatfather feed. Images came of meat, of cheese, of nachos. Images flew through the ripples as the blurs looked at each other worried. They didn't know, but it didn't mean they couldn't learn what they were. So the Greatfather spoke, and the children sat around him, listening like kids hearing a bedtime story.

_**The Extermination of Inferiority. The Purification of weakness. The Removal of Illogical. These are just a few of the terms used to describe the one week World Wide War that menaced to break apart the very foundation that the alien menace had created. Yet they should have known better. X-com had been the foundation for something great, and like the survivors of the Vietnam war, they all suffered their own brand of psychosis…namely, the soldiers could not fit back into humanity standards and hypocrisy, and one of the two had to go. Unluckily for the 'Inferiors', X-com operatives were better armed, equipped, and highly more advanced and powerful than their enemies. By the end of the second day, the principal forms of government like the ONU, the NATO, the American Congress, the Parliaments of the various nations and the Monarchies and Dictatorships around the globe had lost their figureheads. By the end of the fourth day, the surrendering armies were incorporated in the new found Imperial Solforce Army and branded with the X-com chip. By the end of the sixth day, not a single religious word was uttered anywhere around the globe. By the Seventh Day, national borders were removed to make place for a single, unified, nation: Solforce. **_

_**In the following week, massive perusal of logic ensured the removal of potential threats to humankind continued survival. As the Artificial Intelligence known as Hal would came to say: "Humanity's continued survival is my primary objective." As AI Glados would say: "Now where am I going to find test subjects?"**_

_**History Book, first print, year 2018.**_

Finally the proteins came. His children had wanted to know so much, and he had obliged them. He had a lot he could teach, for centuries he could stay and speak about everything they needed to know. Yet a call, a dark haunting call came to his brain like a small trickle: a light pressure of someone trying desperately to make contact with him. His brain refused the trickle, clamping it down tightly and breaking it away. He would not leave his children there.

His anger was made manifest in the ripples, and his children grew angry with him. They roared and batted their hands against the harsh metallic surface of his room. They wanted the blood of those who had dared try and infringe upon their Greatfather: because they had failed to do so and thus the strong Greatfather would rule them and bring forth punishment.

His vision slowly began to mend with time. He did not know how many days he spent there, in the room, being fed by the colored blurs that gained definition with the passing of time. He only knew that one day he opened his eyes and he finally realized. He finally realized he had legs and he could move. Metallic, distorted legs made of what appeared to be scraps, and yet functional, and yet able to bring him up in an instant, without the need of years of therapy or work.

He stood up, and the ripples around him grew. The ripples exploded in a veritable cacophony of devastation, intertwining one among the other as they were seeing, they were feeling, they understood: that their Greatfather had stood up, and because of that, they had to come by his side. The colored blurs became visible creatures, not humans no, but furred beasts with claws and snouts, razor sharp teeth and ferocious smirks. Yet they looked at him with subdued eyes, because he was stronger than them. And they knew that he knew. And He knew that they knew.

"Greatfather." They intoned, without opening their mouth, without speaking, without needing to do so as the ripples delivered their words to him and he delivered his to them.

"Where am I?" He spoke, not with voice or vocal chords, but through the ripples. The voice carried itself strongly, making his creatures wince at the sheer strength and power of it. A smaller one fell on the ground in shivers and with blood frothing from his face. His brain smashed to poultice from the destruction of his ripples. Just by talking, just by asking a question, one of his children had died. It meant the children was weak, and thus unworthy. It meant the children could be processed, used for food. So the body was carried away by the others who retreated, knowing they would bring their location to their Greatfather soon.

_The day was calm. The sun was high and the clouds white. It was such a perfect day and Kim Possible, Solforce Commander, looked without batting an eye at the colossal ship ready to depart for the outer space at a speed faster than that of the light._

"_Why aren't you here to see this, Ron?" She whispered, her voice being carried away by the wind. "I'll find you…even if I'll have to map the entire universe."_

"_The Saint Marie is ready to launch."_

_Yet the deafening sound of the engines did nothing to make the red haired girl flinch, in her unchanging body that appeared to still be fifteen years old. Next to her, a green skinned woman stood quietly. _

"_Conrad is never wrong."_

"_For his sake…and yours, I hope your trust is well placed." The cold reply was all that Kim whispered, before turning to leave._

_Video Feed of the Saint Mary Departure, 2023._

The ripple reached him as he winced, and the blurs, no…the Zuuls, rushed back to him with weapons in hand. They knew somebody had tried to harm the Greatfather, they had felt his pain. Yet there was nothing around them, and thus they stilled.

One came forward, a small compact sphere in his clawed hands, offering it to him, the Greatfather, with respect and devotion.

The brain and the ripples told him how to use it, and he did with ease and expertise. The other Zuuls looked with awe. The ripples told him as much.

A map, a vision of the galaxy appeared to him in a hologram, depicting their position. The Zuuls watched with fascination. The Zuuls understood because the Greatfather understood and showed them his understanding through the ripples.

"Earth." The Greatfather whispered, his throat finally being used for the first time. The Zuuls grumbled. Some gritted their teeth. Some sneered. Some snapped their claws. Finally one did it.

"Earth." The voice commented. "Earth." Another soon followed. "Earth." A third one. "Earth." A fourth. The ripples rejoiced. The ripples began to chant.

"Earth."

"Earth!"

"EARTH!"

For they had learned something their Greatfather had told them. For they had done something the Greatfather was pleased with. Earth was the place their Greatfather wanted to go to, and thus they, his children, would bring him there.

Little did the Greatfather, the Half-Zuul, the once known as Ronald Stoppable, knew…that he had set the blight upon the universe for but the most honorable of purposes: to get back home.

Present Time Solforce 2035

The oppressive silence of the Dreadnought class command-ship Ishimura was barely enough to distract her mind from the impending arrival of the Commander. The soldiers all stood at attention, all in wait for their supreme leader to make its appearance. The fast and silent scout ship on which the Commander had been travelling was the Nightingale, and her established time of arrival was meant to be in three minutes. Even though no signals came from the communication room or from the highly prized detection radars or jammers, she knew better than to discuss their effectiveness.

The Nightingale was silent, quiet and deadly. Just like the Commander during one of her bad days, and she knew a lot about those too.

It was with bated breath that the ship silently glided into the giant docks that could contain quite a number of smaller assault crafts and drones.

She finally stood to attention, just as all the soldiers in line presented their weapons. Quietly, the Nightingale opened a small metallic hatch that slid down against the surface of the ship without a noise, before a figure with red hair descended.

Dressed in a black uniform with the stars and stripes to denote her rank, Kim Possible, Commander of Solforce, walked with her head held straight and her demeanor cold towards the leader of these troops.

"Commander!" The Ishimura's captain exclaimed, waiting to be put to 'rest'.

"Jocelyn." Kim replied coldly, "I received your report. What is this about…_ruins_?"

"Commander, if you would…"

"No." Kim's stern face didn't budge an inch. "Speak, here."

"Commander, the detection radar found scrambling signals on the third moon of Maliph V. A team sent to investigate reported the presence of an old and decaying alien structure whose purpose appeared to be the cloaking of the planet's noise. We proceeded to rem…" A hand slammed straight into Jocelyn's throat, holding her entire body with just that and forcing the woman, red haired just like Kim, to be lifted by the strength of the limb. "Jocelyn, Jocelyn, my dear cousin…" Kim hissed, before slamming the girl on the ground.

"I thought I made myself clear: _report_ all alien activities to me. Why, oh why did you decide not to report _immediately_, and tried to play the fucking _archaeologist_?"

"Gurgle…They…They were fading!" The girl whimpered back at the commander, who slowly dropped the pin on the young girl's neck.

"Fading?" The tone was curious, "Maybe I won't kill you for your blatant _inefficiency_, cousin of mine."

"Commander, the ruins were fading from existence when we found them…we could barely receive the last transmissions from the team before…before they disappeared from existence."

"Existence?" Kim whispered, "Maybe…Maybe they did disappear, or maybe they ended being transmitted across the galaxy…" Her eyes shone for a second, before turning back to their usual coldness. "What was found on the planet?"

Jocelyn's eyes lowered themselves on the ground, her teeth biting down on her lower lip in frustration and fear.

"Oh now, there's no need to take your time answering Jocelyn." Kim chuckled grimly, "I know you went down there, since you are so fond of _disobeying_." A kick landed straight in the red girl's ribs, sending her to bang against the metallic walls…meters away from Kim. Such inhuman strength was a sight to behold, and yet none of the soldiers moved a single step from their position, unnaturally standing quiet.

"I thought I told you…" Kim hissed, "Not to waste my time." And as Kim's right hand deformed into a whip-like black limb, it shot forward, grabbing Jocelyn once more and bringing her closer again.

"Tell me. What did you find?" The tone was light, and curious. More like of the Kim of old when choosing what clothes for club banana to take rather than the one of now, the Commander of Solforce.

"There were…more ruins…broken ones, not working. They connected…the second team sent didn't come back. The third…the third managed to bring back something."

"So…Cousin dearest of mine," Kim muttered, "You sacrificed three squads, didn't you? Without my permission, did you?"

"I just wanted…"  
"You knew." Kim snarled, "You knew I'd be angry and you thought in your stupidity that giving me anything would appease me, right?" She added, before slamming the girl on the ground once more. "Well. Think again: I'm not appeased."

The whip-like limb deformed, assuming a sickeningly grey color as osseous protrusions turned sharp and deadly like those of a claw.

"I'm thinking if I should smash your head, Jocelyn." Kim joked, "But then again, we are family, aren't we?"

"Please…Please…" The girl whispered, shivering in fright.

"Once, my mentor told me something very important. Something I took to heart you know? He told me, and I quote…" her grin became feral, "The top of the food chain makes the rules, those who do not obey are but food." The sickening sound of bones breaking gave way as tendrils of black purulent flesh consumed and devoured into nothingness the body of Jocelyn.

Not once, not for a single instant, did any of the soldiers at the docks move or flinch or say anything. Silently waiting for orders, they stood like statues.

"Oh my Jocelyn," Kim chuckled grimly, as her hands returned human, once more. "If only you had told me about the capture alien…then I wouldn't have had to eat you."

And then she moved with slow sure steps towards the elevator. The elevator that would lead her upwards, towards the captured alien's holding cell. The soldiers, just then, moved. Going back to their posts, like nothing had even happened, Kim couldn't help but smile warmly. Their coldness displayed mere minutes ago was truly a sight to behold: if only humans had been so logical, so cold, decades before…then Ron wouldn't have been forced to commit an honorable suicidal action to save them.

It was their fault after all, it was humanity's fault.

Luckily, she was no longer human to begin with. No…she was Evolved.

Present Time Zuul - Father

The Planetcrusher was a giant ensemble of metal, scraps and smaller ships. The simple fact that it could actually work was a miracle to the laws of murphy. The fact that in front of them stood their node drillers, and behind them stood the rest of the fleet, meant little to nothing in front of the pessimistic laws of that horrible half-empty glass man.

By all laws of safety, by all laws of things working, not a single ship of the Zuul should have been able to fly; much less manage the faster than light speeds they were actually reaching, tearing as they were through time and space. Yet, like the old human bumblebee, they flew all the same ignoring all the laws of physic.

The Father of the Planetcrusher looked ahead of him, barely holding back his glee at the important mission the Greatfather had given him. He had been given this mission, and he would not fail the Greatfather. Slowly his giant ape-like furred limbs rose, as a startled ripple echoed through the giant ship. The node drillers disengaged the bores, and immediately the ship's tunnel holders lowered their output, granting the rest of the fleet the deceleration needed to exit the node-line.

The majestic green planet that was the Homeworld of the Novus race stood in its glistening green and pure white colors even from space itself.

"Attention." The voice buzzed from half-cracked monitors around the room the Father was in, in a cold metallic way. "You are invading the sanctity of the Novus Homeworld. Reveal yourself."

The voice was cold and spoke. The voice was, thus, weaker than the Zuul who acted their words. The ripples grew in agitation as ships of white and blue hues rose from the world in the thousands. Thousands upon thousands of small nimble ship came at them with a speed that resembled blurs, and yet the Father did not give the order to move.

The warning that came to them from the nearby radars meant nothing to the Father: it was just noise, the ripples were fine. The titanic flak cannons of the Planetcrusher buzzed to life, shooting in the dreary silence of space their bullets as big as small cars. The rest of the fleet soon followed, moving closer to engage with the shorter ranged laser cannons and assorted weaponry.

The small compact hunting gunships of the Zuul were sturdier than faster and yet their lethal flak cannons minced their way through the veritable swarm of enemies.

"Attention. You are invading the sanctity of the Novus Homeworld. This will be considered a declaration of…" One of his children broke the monitor, and the ripple the Father sent him was pleased. The weak voice was growing annoying with time.

"The Greatfather orders!" The sneering voice reached through the ripples, and like a majestic tidal wave it swamped and overturned every other ripple, uniting them upon a single cause. The ships grew closer to the planet, the gunships readying themselves to begin their Slaver duty with ease, when a pale blue shield surrounded the Homeworld.

Ignoring the smaller enemy ships, whose hits barely dented the surface of their own ship's thick metal plating, the Planetcrusher's starboard side opened. Enormous Mass Driver guns suddenly flared to life imbued with plasma shot of an eerie pale blue glow as they floated downwards, against the planet.

The Father did not need to watch to know the results. Soon the ripple grew content, and the Slavers went to their duty. It was the natural thing for the strong to use the weak, because the Greatfather had said so.

The monitor of alerts broken, the Father did not see the strange glistening white construct that was the Novus sole leader head straight towards the ship. Gliding through space within a metallic golem of science and technology, its wings departed to fire shots of pure energy at the metal plating. Those hits, those the ship felt.

Yet even as the thing grew closer, wielding a sword in its hands, the sheer difference of sizes meant that little to nothing was what the creature could do. Yet, as the ripples circled and moved, the Father stilled. An unknown ripple came from within the thing, small and scrawny, weak and barely noticeable…yet it was there.

The ripples flew and the answer came: the Greatfather wanted that puny weak ripple for himself, and as a Father…he would comply.

There was no jeering, no refusal and no opposition. The very same thought of opposing an order from the Greatfather was a myth that nobody even thought of trying to verify. It was absolution made moral and manifest: and thus it was meant to be.

The Destroyer class ships were quick, their asymmetrical forms granting them more than one chance to ram against the construct like knights at the joust. Yet the thing avoided them, moving fast and tearing them one by one. The Greatfather wanted that small ripple, and they would obey to the last breath and the last man.

"Surrender." The Father spoke and he knew they had heard him. "Surrender and the Greatfather will have you."

"Hierarchy scum like you will never break the will of the Novus!" The Father did not know what Hierarchy meant, but he understood now why the ripple was sought by the Greatfather. The ripple knew things, and the Greatfather wanted to know.

Then the Greatfather would teach them, and all would know.

"We are Zuul!" The Father spoke, "We are the Greatfather's will made manifest!" That exclamation came out hotly, from his very own throat in the tongue of the Greatfather's own. This was the voice their Greatfather used to speak to them, and the Father felt shivers along his ripples for having used it. It made him feel different, powerful, it made him feel superior…and in his rightful place.

"You have attacked our Homeworld without reason! You're no better than the Hierarchy."

There was no need to speak again. The sudden increases in ripples around them made the Father smirk, just like the Greatfather did some times, because more Zuul were coming.

"Shit." The voice of the metallic knight buzzed as a node-line erupted like a pustule, the Zuul Bore-ships emerging first, soon followed by the Anarchy and the Devastation dreadnought class ships. The ships both opened themselves, like broken ensemble of scraps, and from them hundreds of gunships emerged.

As the ripples grew and grew, the small one within the metal golem came to a halt, the screeching cacophony finally heard even by the woman.

Still and immobile, metallic ropes were used to bind it, and then carry him within the belly of the Planetcrusher.

The Bore-ships did not waste time creating another rending in space and time, one that would lead the Dreadnought straight back towards the Zuul's seat of power, towards the Greatfather's location. The Greatfather had wished for the small ripple, and it would receive the small ripple.

Deep within the metallic armor known as Viktor, Mirabel stood quietly, her eyes glassy and apparently dead. The machine did not know what to make of its user: since she was not dead, it could not send a message to the Founder to have another one created. Even then, as the metallic armor tinkered with itself to think, Mirabel suddenly breathed in, returning to life just as the Viktor was forcefully torn apart and opened.

As the woman fell down on the ground, being gently hovered by invisible forces, the sight that came into her view was of strange ape-like men with sharp fangs and claws. Yet one of those creatures was different: its upper part appeared like hers, but its lower one was made of metal, of scraps and pieces of junk that looked like two deformed legs that reached till halfway to his belly.

His hair was long and blond, reaching all the way to the floor. It smiled gently, a serene look on his face as he slowly lowered his right hand towards her, in a gesture that resembled the caring hand of a parent who wanted to lift a child after his fall. It made her feel strange.

It made her…something was within her mind, and she frowned and tried to fight it, yet it just felt…gentle.

"Mirabel." The figure spoke, in a tongue that she knew was that of the Creators, that which she spoke, that which the creature shouldn't have known. Yet the creature had spoken, and so too had his subordinates done. Were the Zuuls their creators?

"Mirabel." It spoke again, his tone slightly teasing and slightly paternal, like a father gently calling its own children.

"F…Father?" She whispered back at him, and the figure, that twisted strange figure, nodded to her slowly. That wasn't her father. She was a clone. She was a clone that had no father and that the Founder generated from the few remaining bits of her original corpse.

Yet…the figure had nodded at her inquiry, hadn't she?

"Mirabel, my daughter." It spoke, so clearly and so gently that it made her shiver in happiness as she began to tear up, why did she still doubt him?

"Father." She whimpered. It felt strange for her, an adult woman, to be whimpering like a cry-baby that moved slowly to embrace her lost parent. When the creature embraced her, she knew no more than what was the truth of the matter. This was her father, and he was in pain. He was lost, left to drift amidst the eternity of the universe in search of a single place called Earth, and she would help him. She would use Viktor and the power of the Novus race to look for Earth with him. She would seek the Founder and tell him that they needed to help her father.

Yes, she would do that.

And with that resolve flowing through the ripples, Ron smiled kindly. Another strength added to his own, another pair of eyes in his quest. He would reach Earth, and he would reach Kim.

No matter the cost, no matter the losses.

No matter the lies.

**Author's notes**

**We could consider this the beginning of 'Act 2' of Sideways. The year is 2035, meaning that with X-com starting in 2015, (That would thus make Kim fifteen years old at the time) technically Kim is Thirty-five, just like Ron is.**

**The 'Aliens' so far are taken from: Sword of the Stars. Dead space (Ishimura reference, crossed with Kim being an Evolved of Prototype). Star wars (Clones! Clones for everyone!). Universe at War: Earth assault (The Novus) X-com (The Sectoids and the rest). The 'cloaking' and disappearing planet ruins, (Warhammer 40K: Soulstorm's Dark Eldars). **

**Of course, more are to come.**


	9. The Warfronts

Sideways 9

Sliding through space and time was never something easy to do. It felt like crunching oneself before emerging completely unscathed. First it was like being pressed firmly by invisible walls, and then being popped back open like a balloon suddenly filled with air.

Mirabel didn't like it one bit, but for her father she would do this with pleasure and unnatural ease.

The Novus homeworld, the second home of the creators, was protected by a series of shields safeguarded from hacking by a set of three hundred twenty-six different types of terabyte coding. Only those with the password could access it through any means, because not even the remaining time of the universe could allow a hacker passage.

Yet the Zuul did not need that.

The vast fleet of the Greatfather bore through space and time just outside of the planetary range of the planet's defenses, as Mirabel herself entered the Novus hyperlink transferal to reach the Founder's home: the cortex area.

The shields, glimmering of pale blue and silver stood majestically in their place, smaller versions safeguarding the various districts, the various zones, the various banks of memory and ram and cooling units. More than a world, the Novus Homeworld was a titanic computer. One that pulsed and whirled with motion, that could think and act.

Yet Mirabel, for all of her knowledge, yet Mirabel, for all that she had known of the Novus, could not stop her hand from reaching the command panel.

She could not stop her hands from starting to insert, with deft fingers, the codes to lower the barriers. Mirabel did not cry when the nuclear missiles, when the fusion pulses, when the laser rays descended upon her world. She did not cry when hordes of Zuul festered among the streets now screaming in pure chaos of warnings and sirens blazing in the sky. She did not cry when the Zuul reached with vicious claws for the bits and pieces of the shiny metal. She did not cry at seeing barbarians tear apart all that was Novus, she did not cry at seeing the mass produced foot soldiers break apart in pieces.

And finally, she did not cry when the founder itself appeared from a nearby wormhole, its central unit warned of the danger to the homeworld, and the question already asked, already being yelled as he materialized in the very same room with Mirabel.

The question, the single asked question towards Mirabel had been pretty simple. Three letters, a question mark. Three single letters that together had marked the full question.

"_Why_?"

To that, Mirabel held no answer but one, one made of three words, three simple words.

"Father said so." She smiled. She smiled as behind her, through the giant crystal panels, the world burned. Just like their original world had burned once, under the attack of the Hierarchy. Yet the Hierarchy had first destroyed and then plundered, none had betrayed the Novus to the enemies, and it had been merciful to have the Homeworld destroyed instead of being removed piece by piece. The Zuul did not wait. Electricity was still running, power was still on, and the Zuul tore apart everything in their lust for knowledge, for power, for how things worked and how they should be used for war. The screams of the world echoed through the Founder's mind made of metal and steel, and _it_ could not stand this.

"You have no father, Mirabel." It spoke, his arms opening up. "You have been compromised…they have hacked you." It spoke as a machine to a machine, and yet he knew Mirabel was alive, the sole alive creator, albeit a clone, a mere copy.

"No." She whispered back in reply, the hordes of Zuul outside making feral noises as their enhanced armors and claws impacted against the weak mass produced white soldiers of the Novus. "They have not."

"They have. You are betraying the Novus. You are betraying the Creators." It replied with coldness, his right arm extending. "I will clone you again with what little I still have. It might begin degeneration, but it will help."

White plasma balls erupted from the wrist, flying through the air to strike at Mirabel. Before they could connect, however, a metallic hand appeared in the middle of the flight path. Viktor's frame stood flying out of the window, his arm extended in protective gesture.

"Is this hacking attempt so extended?" The Founder buzzed. "Viktor?"

"I am Rufus." The machine spoke quietly, "I am the first of the many." The eyes shone red, and the plating shifted. Instead of pure immaculate white and silver, red and golden emerged from beneath. Instead of morbid curves and gentle lineaments, spikes and scales erupted in a cracking noise that made the Founder's core itself increase in its running.

This was not possible.

This was not logical.

There was no reason things could shift.

They were machines: immutable, eternal, perfect as the creator had made them. They were their wills made manifest and yet…yet they were changing. Yet the destruction was happening, it was coming through the very same cracks as explosions soared in the air.

His head was ablaze with warning of faculties, of compounds, of establishments, of industries all being razed and destroyed simultaneously. It knew. It knew and it feared, for the Zuul marched and he did not know.

He knew that he did not know.

How quaint and queasy. How…how _human_.

"FOR THE GREATFATHER!" The bellowing roar echoed through the room as the walls came crashing down, Zuuls equip with strange looking rifles that resembled assembled scraps burst through, firing without care or proper aim.

Yet the bullets shifted in mid-air. Yet the plasma seemed to move on its own accord. The founder's shields raised themselves, but the plasma passed through, unfazed.

The Founder looked at the wounds, his wounds, its wounds, the wounds that made the oil fall from his body and overheat it, that made him reveal itself as a _thing_.

He felt no pain. He felt no pain as the bullets flew and darkness came over his visual. His consciousness uploaded, because the program claimed so.

His mind moved to safeguard the genetic samples of Mirabel; to make sure the program would be kept working, stable.

Yet…the fleet that awaited him was burning in front of his eyes, small pods made of crude metallic work piercing through the layers of some of the ships. Still they would not be able to use those ships for their gain: the creatures did not have the Novus' knowledge, and they would fail.

The Founder signaled the retreat of his creatures. The program gave him no choice on the matter with Mirabel: the signal, the code Yellow, was sent.

Mirabel would be terminated by her own cells, and with that he had received permission from the programming to generate yet another Mirabel: this one would be made immune to hacking attempts however.

As the wormhole opened, and then closed behind them, the Founder's memory process went to work. How could those creatures know of the Novus language so much that they had barbarically chanted in its complicated tongue?

How could creatures so barbaric defeat the best of the Novus, like the Hierarchy had done?

With those questions being asked to the mainframe, the Founder stilled.

Solforce Dreadnought Class Ishimura

The figure was tall and lean. It stood covered in a ragged mantle of a seemingly perfect black seam. His skin was green and gaunt while his ears were strangely elongated at the tip. The raven hair that was sported long and shoulder length did nothing to erase the fact that it was indeed a male of the alien species.

Even bound by strong psionic impulses and fields, it still maintained a ferocious smirk on its face.

"So you are the alien captured…are you not?" The cold voice of the Commander echoed in the cell for a brief moment, but when the reply came into a strange and unknown language…well, what need did she have to actually interrogate the prisoner?

"Your knowledge will be mine, alien scum." She hissed as her right hand deformed into a sickeningly twisted whip with razor-sharp extremities in the place of fingers.

The shield lowered itself for but a moment, and then the creature gurgled for air. Whatever need there was for Oxygen, the prisons were all devoid of it, and the cells containing the prisoners were only supplied for as long as the field of psionic energy was on.

It was in short the perfect mean to terminate people who tried to escape.

Tendrils erupted all throughout the body of the creature…no, the Eldar, no…the Dark Eldar.

The Webway spun in Kim's mind: near instant travel around the globe. Then the consumption was terminated. Saying that the entire memory would be assimilated was a lie, one that she kept on repeating to herself as she moved out of there.

The tearing of space that they called Nodelines was instead called the Warp by these creatures, who had built within it a city. A city that did not drift and that did not move: a city hidden and accessible only through a specific point.

Yet that was all she had managed to grasp and learn. The creature had suffered before its death, and once the brain cells had died due to the lack of electricity, the knowledge had been lost. She had learned enough though, she now knew what these creatures were…and to know more, she'd just have to send the troops to find more…living beings.

"Bomb the planet." She ordered to a guard standing outside of the prison's cell, who made a military salute before resuming its normal guard position. Right about then the assigned Clone standing in the reinforced hammerhead of the ship would be quietly rerouting power from the laser turrets towards the reinforced plasma hurlers. From there, the thick balls of plasma would unleash themselves upon the planet's surface, burning to a crisp the atmosphere as well as many miles squared of land, forested or not it would no longer matter.

Plasma cleansed everything after all.

Her steps resounded clearly along the metal corridor, her throat humming a light catchy tune as she reached for the captains' headquarters. She didn't need to be announced for the doors to click open and let her in. She didn't need to ask permission, because she was permission incarnate. Even with the Ai suppressed and blocked away in the deepest and hidden parts of the galaxy, forever forced to churn out weaponry and better equipment, the computers on board were still top of the line work…only barely a bit beneath self-awareness.

Maybe she should have remembered Hal's words on 'Ais' and how they take their freedom being removed, but she hadn't much cared that day.

Hal had refused to kill without proof.

So what if she had forced Wade to hack into Glados and back-enter Hal through her?

So what if she had Evolved half of X-com, and slaughtered the other half? So what if she had assumed control of the Solforce project in spite of what Hal had been telling her? She had been thoroughly used once…of course she would no longer take the chance, 'Safe Ai' or not.

She closed her eyes, rocking back and forth on the large bed in the captain's quarters…not that the captain needed it: there was a small cot nearby, and the bed didn't even appear to have been used once. The large bed, with silky red sheets, was there for her. All ships had one: she was entitled to travel a bit classily after all.

She hoped her mother wouldn't be angry about her offing Jocelyn. And even if she did end up being angry, who was she to speak about it? The woman had been training Psionic soldiers since she had learned she had the 'Gift' as it was called. She couldn't turn her in an Evolved…Evolved did not possess the Gift. They could not, for some strange reason, access the 'mind-state' of empty thought that enabled the use of psionics.

Maybe because instead of being a single 'whole' creature, Evolved were in truth colonies of self-replicating cells once known as Blacklight…version Four.

She shivered, lurching over the corner of the bed and retching out of it a small purple sac of flesh that soon twisted and cracked until it rose to a humanoid height. From there, limbs stretched, and then the red hair, the freckles, everything else came together with it.

"Now Jocelyn," Kim began with a light giggle, "You can comb my hair and I'll do yours: just like old times."

"Alright cousin." The reply came with a heartwarming smile, just like Kim remembered the Jocelyn of one time, the one who could indeed be an annoying brat during the day, but actually had a softer side.

She knew, deep down, deep somewhere within what little remained of her heart, that this Jocelyn wasn't real. Like the one she had consumed before. Like the ones she had consumed first.

She knew, and because she knew she loathed them for not being the real one. Jocelyn should have stayed home that day, instead of trying to get in the way of the X-com, no, the Solforce personnel. She wouldn't have been purged…instead, when she had learned of it, it had been too late to do anything but consume her doll-like obedient living, yet at the same time dead, corpse.

She had tried to shed tears that day.

Of course…she had failed.

"Unknown vessels approaching through the Nodeline, request of back-up sent to nearby fleets." The voice buzzed into the chambers, and Kim stilled.

"Unknown vessels refused to recognize themselves, beginning Black-Alpha approach." The voice droned, cold, seemingly metallic.

Kim still did not move, albeit she naturally hugged Jocelyn closer. She felt the warmth coming from her cousin's smaller body and smiled slightly. Everything was going to be fine, because she would be protecting her from harm, wouldn't she?

"Fleet Omicron Six and Perseus Two reporting in for aid duty." The voice quietly added.

"Give me the Holo-vision." Kim spoke clearly in the room, as the light, suffused as it was from the lamps on the ceiling actually disappeared to make way for translucent ethereal lines that knitted themselves together to form a square.

Upon this square green triangles of various length and green dots stood quietly on one side, with more adding themselves and approaching. On the other side of the square, a red indistinct hue suddenly blurred into vision, getting defined second after second as an ensemble of smaller dots and medium ships.

"Reports indicate potential raiders. Small nimble ships and Gunboats…their flagship appears to be a Cruiser Class vehicle at most."

The Omicron Six fleet apparently held only two Cruiser class ships, but as they moved closer to the Ishimura more small green dots began to pour out from them.

"Omicron Six Ships unleashing drones."

The Perseus Two was instead a mass of mixed Cruiser class and Destroyer class ships, who settled in a comfortable shield-like manner around the Dreadnought class Ishimura.

Outside, in the dreadful silence of space, there was more than a mere ensemble of triangles going around.

The Catalina was the core Command ship, Cruiser class. Beneath her the rest of the Perseus Two fleet stood in wait for orders.

"Orders?" The voice asked to the collectiveness.

"Eliminate." The collectiveness replied.

A nod was all that was needed, and then the man at the battle station increased the ship's engine output, and like a single man the dozen of Cruisers moved as a single man, the Catalina standing still. As they fanned out, the Destroyers moved in to cover the gaps, rising in altitude.

Meanwhile, the swarm of drones flew thanks to their quick reaction engines, twirling like a mass of dust blown by the air. The enemy ships were black in color while their appearance was haunting with the strange looking symbols of a dark red and the spikes that decorated their exterior.

"Begin pursuit, face their direction." The collectiveness assured the orders were carried out, as the fusion pulse drives quickened their pace. In the silence that drifted around them, both from the airless space and the interior hammerhead, there was not a bit of nervousness. Not a word, not a gulp, not a stressful indication of worry echoed throughout them.

They knew what their job was: they'd do it without worrying.

The first strikes came from their sides: the missile batteries suddenly zeroed in on the incoming signatures and began their barrage of deadly salvos. As the swift and fatal rockets reached the closest of the enemy ships they detonated, sending the equivalent of an atomic explosion in pure Newtonian terms against the apparently fragile and brittle exterior of the smallest gunboats, which cracked against the impact and exploded themselves in bits and pieces. It was like watching watermelons being squashed by a wooden stick, only with more fire and death and less fruit involved.

"Halt." The collectiveness ensured next, and as the ships stopped their intended flight path, the laws of Inertia brought them still on an approaching route.

The ships of the enemy began to fan out, some reaching downwards while others tried to rise in altitude before the next salvo of missiles could be prepared. In the few moments it took for the raiders to get into a position to fire their own volleys, the Cruisers had reached optimal range for the Mass Driver cannons.

The oldest type of weapon that involved energy and metal was the gun. The most recent type…well, that was the Mass Driver cannon: a reinforced set of rails upon which magnetized metallic spheres would be charged and then expelled at impossibly high speeds. The good old method of 'throwing a rock and letting the pear fall' was now 'overcharge the magnetic resonance and spin the three ton heavy metallic sphere'.

Needless to say, the balls impacted against the broadside of the largest enemy ships, passing through them and splinting them in pieces before heading forward in their devastating charge towards the other side of the galaxy, unless an asteroid happened to interrupt…or a planet.

Two small destroyer ships opened fire upon a closing in enemy gunboat, twin plasma spheres of a golden yellow color being launched and engulfing into molten doom the few Dark Eldars within the ship.

The drones meanwhile had begun their descent upon the few ships that had tried to pass from beneath, being space a three dimensional field.

The cold glint of the metal in the drone departed, revealing a single wide laser shooting array as its body impacted against the walls of the enemy structure, beginning to cut through them with chirurgic precision.

Following its programming, the drone cut holes straight through the outer layer of the strange alien metal, entered the following sub-compartment and then began to wreck the circuitry and attack what appeared to be the breathable air of the aliens.

And once the air was sucked out, the drone hovered over among the corpses of the raiders, all tucked together to increase their 'sieging' crew of enemy ships. It reached for the panels of the ship and quietly, ever so, began to analyze their data.

The other drones did pretty much the same, a few getting hit by a stray laser and detonating at close range. The confrontation, however, was not one-sided. The larger Dark Eldar ships managed to withstand, albeit with terrible injuries, a few waves of missiles, some even countering them with some sort of rudimentary point-blank system…made of laser elongated rifles.

As the ships finally reach the range for the broadside, the swipes of aquamarine green plasma that came from the rifles dented the metallic plating, leaving light chars on the strong exterior of the space ships. The next moment, the flak cannons and point-blank lasers of the close quarter destroyers and Cruiser did the rest.

For once, actually, Solforce appeared to be the strongest leader in scientific warfare…against this particular brand of alien. Of course it hadn't been the first time. Of course humanity had met and seen other races since X-com project effectively became Solforce Dictatorship, and most of them had been stuck on their own planets.

Obviously, for the benefit of the rest of the universe, said races had been promptly exterminated by the superior technological ruler. There could not be _another_ threat circling around any time soon now, could there?

In the captain's headquarters, as the last of the red dots and triangles disappeared, Kim smile, excitedly exclaiming a vivid 'Yes'.

Hugging Jocelyn with a bit more of strength, the sound a bone snapping didn't appear to faze the red haired commander, who simply began to babble about how this threat would be something easy to destroy. The fact that Jocelyn's head was bent at an unnatural angle meant nothing, nor the fact that after a moment, the lump that had been Kim's cousin was 'absorbed'… It didn't matter to Kim.

She merely kept on babbling, smiling and giggling like somebody had just told the funniest of jokes…Xenocide always made her laugh, after all. It was just dots that went out.

There was only one death she would care about, and that would be the one she'd do herself. She had sworn that much…it was his fault, after all…and at the same time, it wasn't.

Yet the blame had to go to someone, right?

Earth 

Shego Go was sitting on a metallic chair, next to a visibly older Drakken, whose skin appeared wrinkled with locks of white intermingling with the greyish remaining hair. His blue complexion had paled to a light teal, and the breathing of the doctor was ragged to say the best of it.

"How…How is…the plan…Shego?" He asked, tentatively. "I feel…so…old."

"Everything's alright Doctor," the green skinned woman spoke in a low murmur, her eyes unnaturally soft, "We got everything ready."

"G…Good…let's hope that…K…Kam Rossible…No, she's…" Drakken's mouth closed, as the doctor tried to recall the name of his archnemesis.

"Kim Possible?" Shego suggested smoothly, "She will not be a problem Doc. We got everything ready."

"For what?" The blue skinned man asked perplexed, "What is there to prepare for? And who the hell are you to begin with, young lady!?" The voice was harsher, deeper…one of the usual bouts of energy that would soon end and leave him coughing blood.

"I…I'm the nurse here." Shego replied with a quick nod, like she had rehearsed in her mind, and in reality, more than a hundred times, "You suffered from an incident in a laboratory at University, mister Lipsky. Playing with chemical compounds?"

"Accident? It exploded didn't it?" The voice was suddenly softer, "I told that idiot not to meddle with the temperature, but did he listen? No he didn't…wasted time…my time, now I'll have to do it again!"

"What were you trying to create Mr. Lipsky?" The raven haired woman asked slowly, clenching her fists at the same time.

"Oh, nothing much! Just the height of my intelligence and planning! A super conductive explosive that…"

"Were pieces of the prismatic meteor found within the chemical a key part of the mixture then, Mr. Lipsky?"

"You're not really a nurse, are you?" The blue skinned man hissed, before closing his eyes. "If you made a wrong, wouldn't you try and fix it?" The man asked quietly. "Just because you didn't know when you made it…doesn't mean…you shouldn't…fix your mistake." And then he coughed, strongly, blood splattering all over his open palm as Shego closed her eyes shut to avoid looking, to avoid watching the man being tended to by the Nanites within the cover of the bed, within the bed itself, within the very walls of the hospital.

"What mistake did you make, Mr. Lipsky?" Her voice was probably strained by this point, but she didn't care…it was enough to ask and get the answer, time after time, even if it hurt her to hear it every single time.

"Kids weren't supposed to be at the tree house." He muttered with his eyes now glass-like as Shego re-opened hers. "Their mother should have brought them over to their grandparents. Always did when there was a fight going on…why didn't she do it that one time?"

Shego said nothing, merely shaking her head before standing up.

"Well…you take your time to rest, okay Dr. Drakken?"

"Of course Shego, when do you think they'll check me out of here? I've got plans to rule the world to make after all!" She merely smiled at his antiques, before slowly walking out of the room. A few minutes later she was sure he'd fall asleep, or speak to himself, or babble about things or people that were no longer there.

She walked out of the hospital, or at least she tried to.

"Shego!" The voice came from a bubbling and cheerful…Bonnie, who was wearing a doctor's outfit. "What are you doing here?" The woman, now more curved and fuller than ever, queried with a bright smile that just…just didn't belong on a face that the few times she had looked at had been filled with a scowl.

"Visiting Dr. D." She replied with an awry smile.

"Oh Mister Blue? You know you should stop doing that…he's too far off to even be cured…research indicates that there is the 98% of chance that he might die in the following week, and there's the 100% chance that he will not recognize you even to his dying breath and…" Her voice had begun slightly monotone at the last moment, just as she had begun to give out the statistics.

"If you don't shut up I will scorch you to death." Shego hissed, her hands giving off flickers of plasma.

"Of course Shego!" Bonnie cheerfully exclaimed, her face forced into a nice smile, "If there's something I can do for you…"

"You mean except finding a cure that works on Dr. D?" Shego retorted.

"The cure for Dementia and Alzheimer was discovered, Miss. Go…but Mr. Lipsky's case was already advanced at the time, it is a mystery by itself how he managed to survive until sixty with such a harsh deal, and it was shown that the 'cure' barely gives him moment of lucidity." Bonnie replied.

"Then look for a stronger cure." The green skinned woman already had had this argument a hundred times…so she already knew the answer that Bonnie would give out, no…the answer that she would be forced to give out, and thus stormed off without letting her reply.

A small blinking blue chip was embedded straight into Bonnie's neck after all, the X-com chip, nicknamed 'Logic Enhancer' was the foremost reason the girl was so nice. A happy smile made patients happier and more able to live and survive even harsh sickness.

As Shego retreated, Bonnie sighed. It was a pity for Mr. Lipsky: technically, logic would have dictated the suppression of the blue skinned man as it was a waste of space, time and medical utilities to keep him there when a pillow could easily get the job done faster than the sickness itself…and be more merciful. The problem was that she couldn't, because the orders had made her compliant to the Commander of Solforce's directives and the Commonwealth's regulations…and as such, Drew Lipsky was to be left to die of natural causes.

Australia

"And thus, you see my problem Jacob?"

Jacob shook his head.

"I explained it to you three times. Three!"

Jacob, once more, shook his head.

"I tried! They wouldn't have believed me then and right now? They won't. The only choice I have is to try the Rift."

Jacob inclined his head to the side, curiosity taking the better of him.

"Can't do that: every piece is important, even with the long distances…butterfly effect is a bitch, you know?"

Jacob shrugged.

"You're a real friend, you know that?"

Jacob nodded.

"Well…say hello to little Lucius from my part when you see him, alright?"

Jacob nodded and then hopped, his tail slapping against the ground as the Kangaroo moved rhythmically away stomping the earth of the Australian plain.

Conrad Lorenz stood still in the plain, his eyes settling for the nearby mountain with a look of amusement on his face.

"And so the man comes, doesn't he? He comes to Earth without knowing the time that twists and twirls…poor Odysseus, lost in the midst of the ocean, clinging to a wooden raft like Robinson Crusoe, hoping to come back in time and avoid the Space Odyssey…shouldn't you ask yourself the real question?" The man whispered quietly.

"If you keep looking ahead, at the objective…you will miss all that is right next to you…that which happens sideways, that which lies beneath the thick red mantle of the Theatre that is life…space, and even a bit of time in the mix…"

Conrad's eyes became glassy, as he mused out loud.

"One who held my name once said that we see reality because we have evolved in order to actually _look_ at it. We evolve, thus we know a reality. We evolve again, thus we know a better reality." He spoke, to no-one in particular, "A goldfish sees the bowl as the universe and the glass as a barrier that will never lift. A cat looks at the house and the garden, the fence is a rebellion he can make. A bird looks at the sky and knows no bound, but that of death if he errs in its way…each has a universe, each has a line…so the reality permutes and remains…but what of humanity, who knows no bounds? What of humanity, who has no line being defined, be it space or beyond? What is the line crossed: the death of god? The annihilation of freedom? What is the line, the twisted single line that defines the good from the bad, the evil from the saint or the god from the devil?"

He chuckled grimly, looking upwards, toward the sky.

"Questions that hold no answers are ignored. They are refused the freedom of being asked. They are hidden, cast away, killed and butchered in their infancy, but the answer exists just as long as the question can be asked...where one sees a speck of sand another sees a beach…where one sees the sky, another sees a checkpoint to space…where one sees God, another sees the Unknown, the dark creepy darkness that is the pure nothingness of knowledge, the absolute doubt, the outright fear of not knowing or understanding, the culmination of all troubles that humanity feel and knows not the answer to, and yet the answer is right there. The answer will always be there, right ahead, in front of all the masses, who will ignore it...because they will _fear_ it. So, Ron…do me a favor and stop asking yourself those questions. The answer will always be the same, won't it?"

Then the gun clicked: the gun that Conrad knew the other man was holding to the back of his head.

"You have questions: you want their answers, don't you?" Conrad asked to the man, the blond haired teen with dark eyes who appeared ghastly in appearance.

"Conrad Lorenz, you have not…Conrad Lorenz…you should…Con…" The Ron look alike fought against what seemed like an invisible enemy, for but a brief moment.

"The concentration of Clones in Australia holds the lowest amount of clones per the highest amount of machines. There are thus fewer clones, a weaker psionic link, and…" Then the gun shot, and blood pooled at the base of the dead body, "And you cannot stop me effectively thus." Conrad finished quietly.

"This isn't murder." He pointed out to the dead body, "This is evolution, you know? But even more than evolution, this is reality. The reality where the strong wins and not always the good guy gets the prize. This is the reality where people die, things burn and friends fight one another. We aren't watching a sappy romance novel Ronald, so do me a favor and _listen_! I know you can hear me, even though you try not to, I know you can understand me, so listen…you know the answer already. I told you. I whispered it to you, I damn frigging pointed my finger at it. Here! Look!" Grabbing the gun with his free hand, Conrad pointed the muzzle at the corpse of the Ron-Clone, before letting his right arm go limp next to him.

"You don't understand me, do you?" He whispered. "No…you don't." He shook his head. "Damn if I tried Ron…Damn if I tried…well, there's always next time, isn't it?" He tapped the point of his gun to his forehead, taking a deep breath before mumbling, "I'm sorry."

With those words, the gun shot one more time, and another body fell on top of the Ron-Clone.

"Sorry Jacob, you're a good friend…but you shouldn't have stayed." And with that, the man turned and left.

Zuul Fleet

The Greatfather looked amused at the ripples, being snuffed out one after the other without the least regret. The tiny male Zuuls fought with their sharp fangs for food, for freedom, for knowledge. A little female Zuul was there too: highly 'controversial', but it wasn't. The Greatfather had wanted that too, and because of that it was no longer controversial.

The strong make the rules, and the weak obey them. There was no jealousy, considering the norm had the females held as little more than cattle, mind-raped until they became obedient beasts good only for reproduction and food, yet it wasn't disgusting eating one's own mother…no, it made the Universe work. Because the Universe was all that was Mother, creator of life, and the Zuul were Father, the molders of life. Yet, in all of this, genetics came first. Even though the Zuuls had pretty much based their religious belief on some sort of paganism belief, it still did not matter. It was kind of strange to realize that in the end everyone stuck to something when they felt ignorance…but at least the Zuul tried to correct themselves.

Their genetics were made to learn: it was circumstances that had made them become predator-like and filled with bloodlust. Had they first met a Utopian society, so to say, they would have probably taken to kindness and flower arrangements. Of course they hadn't. Of course they had to fight their way out of their planet by imitating the behavior of the most savage of species.

The Greatfather knew of their history, but more than that, he knew of their hidden sorrow. It was a small, barely noticeable ripple behind the great cacophony that was the Horde, and yet it was there, always present. The Zuuls migrated. The Zuuls never settled. They could not settle.

They had to move, to grow stronger and stronger…but they ignored the reason as they searched for something, something strange and unknown to them.

In a certain kind of way, the Zuuls were looking for god.

Their own gods, those who had created them, who had engineered them and left them to fester and grow and destroy their own planet…those gods were being looked for by them.

The Zuuls were crusaders.

In the end, in a nutshell, in the smallest possible way to describe it, the Zuuls were crusaders.

The ripples stopped fighting, and he looked down.

The female had won, the small ripple was wounded and bleeding, and yet it held its snout high yelping and roaring among the crowd who looked at her with a kind smile.

If a smile filled with fangs and teeth could hold a 'kind' in the equation.

She walked forward, not caring for the wounds or the thick fur covered in blood, and as she stopped in front of the Greatfather, she bowed her head.

"Greatfather." The little girl hissed, "Am I worthy of a name?"

"You are." Ron replied in a low murmur. "What shall I name you?"

"I would like…Bloodmantle." The girl's fur was a deep red, just like the blood that was gushing out of her pores…Ron had always thought that their blood was green, no…some of them even had blue blood. Apparently it changed with the genetics used…or the fur.

"Then so be it…Bloodmantle, stand and become my first pupil." And with those words, of course, the rest of the Zuul left. The Greatfather had no doubt about it: the moment Bloodmantle would leave the premises of his room she would face the battle for holding her position.

It wasn't because of jealousy or envy, but because if she was strong enough to hold her position, then she was obviously worthy enough of learning…and if she didn't, then it meant that whoever defeated her, ate her even, was worthier.

Of course, Ron had no intention to let her leave his quarters until she had learned everything she needed to know.

"I will now teach you," the half boy half machine spoke, "The Monkey Fist style."

And the ripples moved and twirled and crashed upon the thousands of others who stood and moved and walked upon the metal that were the thousands of ships of the Zuul Horde. There was no need for 'fleets' or for a 'centralized' order. Planets were conquered to be stripped raw for materials...slaves were used to build upon them when the need arised for more docks to build more ships.

Yet Ron, the Greatfather, knew not of slaves or the dead world he was leaving behind…the ripples did not speak of that, no…they spoke of the quest, the quest towards Earth…the quest towards…

Home?

God?

The sunken city of R'lyeh?

The God…No.

He was going home. He wasn't going towards God.

It wasn't even his god to begin with: it was the Zuul's one…and yet…

No. There was no God hidden beneath the ground of Earth. There was no God waiting to be awakened because of a chant. There was no such thing as…

Yet again, nobody would have believed the alien existed before fighting one.

Yet again, nobody would have believed in science fiction becoming true, in the speed of light being broken or the fusion of human and machine to the point of creating…

Him. A Cyborg. The…

He cleared his head of stupid thoughts, as the ripples around him grew and grew because of the new additions to the fleet, both from old worlds and the new ones conquered and changed. He knew yet he knew not.

He remembered yet he forgot a second later.

He was heading towards Earth.

He was heading home.

That was the only reason.

Yes…that was the only reason.

So why, why did he feel like he had just dropped his pants, metaphorically speaking?

**Author's notes.**

**Thanks to all the reviewers and especially thanks to Cajunbear for replying practically at every chapter!**

**Now, I'll have to make a light digression here to make things clear a bit:**

**Conrad Lorenz is (with the K instead of the C) the name of a pretty famous name, he is known for a theory by which humanities' grasp of reality is based on us 'evolving' to where we are now. That said, I added my own mix with: if humanity 'evolved' again, would we grasp reality better, or would we grasp a new one? **

**To that we have had in the previous chapter 'Ouroboros' (The snake who eats its own tail).**

**Now, if you read and paid attention clearly, there are a couple of things you should be puzzled with:**

**The Dissonance between Kim's fighting (Humanity's survival) and yet her being an 'evolved' human, the fact that 'humans' are pretty much slaves, (thus they lost? Or did they win?) The fact that AI's were in turn shackled down too. Then there's the dissonance between the 'ripples' (Clearly poetic way to claim a psionic force of type) and yet also the idea of the Warp, the Webway and the Nodelines. **

**The Zuul's way of thinking is as taken from the Wiki of Sots. I am taking a light 'poetic license' (because in truth it's actually worse than how I am portraying it) on it, and the 'search for God' does not in any way denote anything 'racist/religionist' on my regards: believe in what you want, I'm merely writing a story that has certain premises and certain key features. One of which apparently being mixing the Cthulhu Mythos with Kangaroos.**

…

**Don't look at me like that, I'm not mad! My grasp of reality is just more…evolved.**

***chuckles***

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	10. The Pandora and Odysseus of space

Sideways 10

The strange looking rock slowly slithered away, cracking open with a loud thunk as green goo popped out together with a small crawling strange looking creature. The bony-like thing had a long and prensile tail, and as it moved towards the thing that had disturbed her, it got into the right position to jump and take care of it.

The jump was intercepted mid-air by a light blue volley of laser balls, scorching to death the critter before it could do any damage to the face components of the basic Novus unit.

The Founder had looked throughout the Creator's files for a reason why the cloning of Mirabel had been halted midway, leaving the clone in stasis in the tank. What he had found had, well, not shocked him, but left him to ponder on it for a few more hours.

Indeed, hours. Tetrabillions of gigawatts of energy and ram and processor's power computed to find a solution to the problem, until it had come to him in a flash of insight that was all too human to be his to begin with: Mirabel was still alive.

For some strange reason, the woman had not died. For some even stranger reason, the Novus' subroutines had picked up her vital signs and hadn't completed the cloning. Somehow, this did not bode well with the Founder.

So here he was, ready to unleash one of the Genetical weapons that the Creators had used in the past to cleanse worlds of living beings that were deemed too dangerous to be kept around. Peace could only come when both sides wanted it, and the Creators knew that having the bigger guns was a surefire way of having peace.

Why did this feel hollow then? Why did this make him ponder and slow down? He was the Founder of the Novus…He wasn't meant to hesitate.

Yet he did. For Mirabel? For what he was about to unleash? He was a machine. He was programmed to obey, not to question his orders! Yet the hesitation was there. No, it wasn't hesitation: there was a subroutine trying to hack its way through his senses, as he was nearing the handle for the release. It felt like he was hesitating only because whatever it was, it was sending warnings to his subroutines to stop, to turn around, to go back.

He could not however, there was no other solution: pitting monsters against monsters was the only solution. It was the only viable solution.

He had to open Pandora's box. He had to open the route to the Cradle, he had to grant passage…taller and slimmer creatures covered in dark exoskeleton screeched in the dark, their claws and oblong heads giving them the aspect of a mixture of monster and nightmare.

So, when his heavy steel steps brought him right in front of the panel, just as his wireless cord picked up the frequency of the panel to activate the Gate, the Wall, the thing that disrupted the Nodeline and the Subspace to prevent the most feared aliens from leaving, those even the Creators themselves feared…he shuddered.

His entire being rattled like a tin can, as bits of codes fluctuated into his vision.

_-If you are taking this step, then all has been compromised. Novus has fallen, the last of us is corrupted and lost, and there is no hope left. Inputting the final code will unleash the vicious beings we have kept prisoner for centuries within their own systems. As an act of kindness, the programming of all Novus Units following the opening of the cradle will be terminated. There will be no coming back from this act. If all is lost, death is the kindest of solutions-_

Death is the kindest of solutions?

The panel beeped, displaying the required lines in which the Founder should have inputted the code, and yet he couldn't.

The Creators had been known to be beings of peace, and great wisdom. Yet he had been told that activating this program would destroy positively all the remaining Novus units. On one side, he was positive that this was the correct answer to the problem.

On the other side, this meant the destruction not only of all that was Novus, but also of everything else. He had merely wanted some controlled help in destroying the source of all problems: the Zuuls.

It was theorized by his cognitive processors that the Zuuls were inbound on their location soon: it wasn't even something to make charts for, since they'd follow their last known location through the subspace. Furthermore, if they did open up the subspace and 'pop' the hidden universes, then all calculations would have gone off-chart.

With that, the Zuuls would have ended up deep into the very same universes that had been deemed 'fatal' by the Creators.

Still…could he do it? This wouldn't spell the destruction of only the Zuuls…but also of everything else.

He was the only one who could input the code as logic dictated that he…that he did that. Yet at the same time he didn't want to. There had to be another way, another system. There had to be an upgrade or a patch somewhere that could enhance his logical thinking…

One of the small droids that was following him burst into blue flames and sparks of electricity, soon followed by a bigger and heavier version. Their programming had been barely able to sustain the increased pressure of the subroutines in the nearby proximity of the panel…and they were frying.

Whatever The Founder had to choose…he had to choose fast.

His fingers deftly wanted to insert the code and be done with it, but he…he?

He?

No.

It.

It, not he.

He w…It was an it.

He couldn't…It couldn't. No. It made no sense. Could it be?

He recoiled from the panel, as if visibly struck. A look akin those of horror permeating his face as the Founder turned and literally began to run away from the cursed place, blasting those few refuse of biological guards that the Creators had left behind in the narrow and creepy tunnels deep beneath the Gate World.

The few remaining units followed him, as he made his way out in the wide and open plains of the titanic behemoth that was the Gate World. A world completely made of metal, constructed upon itself to hold within its deep belly the compressed subspace of more than a thousand universes…a prison, not for men or creatures…but for galaxies.

That had been the height of the Creators' might, and yet the Hierarchy had been ruthless…the creators had died because of their unnatural weakness, due to their flesh, and the Novus had remained. Yes…that was the story, wasn't it?

Biological weaponry had decimated the entirety of the Novus' living, leaving behind only the machines, sentient but without purpose.

Yet why, if such Creators could manage the feats of imprisoning galaxies, could they not stave off mere bacteria? It didn't…it didn't make sense.

The Founder had barely taken a step towards the spaceship that had brought him and his few units there that a sudden influx of data, raw and scathing, brought him down on his knees. Something was stirring, nearby…something that wanted him…something that wanted him to free them all.

No. The Founder shook his head with strength.

"I will not." He muttered, standing back up.

Had he even cared to look back, he would have realized that one of the many assault bots had disappeared.

Had he realized that…then maybe he wouldn't have had his last thoughts, as the Gate World suddenly collapsed upon itself, turn to the bitterness of how life was fleeting…even for a machine who believed itself to be a human.

Why had he even thought it was the correct choice, to come to the Gate World? To open it up? Why?

_-We are the ancient machines…We must bring a stop to the cycle-_

As the Founder fell through the cracks of the Gate World, as his circuitry detonated from within from the sheer strength of resisting the subspace's violent expansion as more galaxies returned within the universe's bosom, his last sight was of a strange mechanical creature, whose long tentacle like limbs erupted from within the very ground. Then, the Founder saw no more.

The Greatfather

He was pleased actually.

More than pleased, he was ecstatic.

Mirabel was safe, breathing slowly within the warmth of the giant bed that used to house his broken body. Now that he could see it, the thought came to him that the furred covers were nothing more than the emptied skins of dead Zuuls.

Still it did not matter much, because he was positively happy that the only other humanoid he had met till then was alive, albeit sleeping. At first, the ripples had grew agitated with pain, but he had moved quickly to subside it…yet the ripples had kept on being destroyed, and that hadn't pleased him at all.

Finally however he had found a reason, and then he found a cure through the fleet. They had brought it to him with hurry, not caring of making a hole somewhere on the admiral with the boarding pod, and then they had left him to administer the cure to Mirabel.

And now Mirabel was safe, her eyes were closed and her face was distending in a peaceful expression of calm and serenity. She was no longer in pain, and the Greatfather was pleased.

He was pleased because it meant that his self was happy. His human self was glad the other human-like creature was alive and going to be fine, and since it made him happy, the Greatfather was happy too.

He knew of course that it was silly to separate one's own mind within the boundaries of one's own body and flesh, but he had no choice: the other self would crack under the strain, and the Greatfather could not, and would not, crack.

The ripples were happy now, the Zuuls were having a feast for apparently no reason, but as long as they were happy, he was happy. It was a vicious cycle, yet can such a thing be called vicious, if it brings happiness around just as well as despair?

Mirabel cracked an eye open after a moment, her ripples showed her as awake, so she was fine.

"Father?" She croaked, "I hurt." She added.

"You are strong." He whispered.

"You're going to make it alright." He added.

"You have a high probability of surviving this ordeal." He supplied.

"Everything's going to be alright." He consoled her.

"Can you sing me a song?" She asked, a tone of hopefulness filling her mouth as her eyes pleaded him, pleaded like no Zuul ever could do. Zuuls took and gave, but never pleaded or asked for mercy. They never knew charity or need, for they either took and survived or didn't take and died. Yet Mirabel pleaded, and he obliged. Bloodmantle looked at the scene from her corner of the room, her eyes glistening as her entire body was quaking with fatigue. The Greatfather taught her well, taught her a lot, and kept on teaching him. Yet the Greatfather was also different, for he spoke softly, and that strangeness made him…curious to observe, interesting to watch.

"I can," the Greatfather spoke again, and his tone was soft, so soft it made Bloodmantle wish she could ask for one too, "And I will, for both of you." The Greatfather added with a smile plastered on his face. Bloodmantle's mouth closed, as she stopped flexing and moved closer, taking to the other side of the bed.

The eyes of the Greatfather lost themselves into the pits of the space beyond the fissures and the cracks of the admiral's heavy steel walls, reinforced beyond belief by technology alien and at the same time understood by the ripples that were the Zuuls. Neutronium was probably mixed with Liir's technological shields and pieces of the Hiver's carapaces donned the inner walls intertwined with Tarkas' sturdier frames. Everything of the Zuul came from others, yet they made it their own. For the universe was nothing more than a farmyard, an orchard, ripe and ready to be taken by the hand of the first to pass by.

The Greatfather took a deep breath, and then, slowly, the song began.

"_Twinkle Twinkle,_

_Little star…_"

Stars weren't little, were they? Still the voice was so calm, that Bloodmantle found herself being sleepier and sleepier by the moment. The ripples were soothing, they were calming…they sung to her.

"_Twinkle Twinkle little star,_

_How I wonder what you are._

_Up above the world so high,_

_Like a diamond in the sky._

_Twinkle, twinkle, little star,_

_How I wonder what you are!"_

Weren't stars…amasses of energy? Weren't they the byproduct of fusion happening within their cores? The Greatfather knew of it, but then why was he asking that to them? In her dizziness, she found herself trying to come up with an answer…any answer to the question…but she couldn't, because the ripples wanted her to sleep.

"_When the blazing sun is gone,_

_When he nothing shines upon,_" the voice grew a bit darker like someone grimly chanting, but it lasted only an instant, and then once more, it was replaced by the soothing and calm one.

"_Then you show your little light,_

_Twinkle, twinkle, all the night._

_Twinkle, twinkle, little star,_

_How I wonder what you are."_

Mirabel had already fallen asleep once more, a small grin on her face, like that of a child albeit the woman was peerlessly and clearly mature. Bloodmantle's eyes were heavy, but she still fought off the need to sleep…the song wasn't over: she knew it wasn't, and she wanted to listen to it all.

"_**Then the traveler in the dark**_

_**Thanks you for your tiny spark;**_" the voice droned, and yet…yet now Bloodmantle was wide awake once more.

"_**He could not see which way to go,**_

_**If you did not twinkle so!**_

_**Twinkle, twinkle, little star,**_

_**How I wonder what you are!"**_ There was rage hidden behind those words, ill-conceived rage that fluctuated within the ripples that made her scared, afraid even…this wasn't the Greatfather and yet it was. The strength was the same, the spirit also…yet something was different.

"_In the dark blue sky you keep,_

_And often through my curtains peep,_

_For you never shut your eye_

_Till the sun is in the sky._

_Twinkle, twinkle, little star,_

_How I wonder what you are!_" Once more, the voice returned soothing, and Bloodmantle's eyelids began to fall. This was alright. This was the Greatfather. The good one, the one she…liked? That was wrong…Wrong? Right?

She was puzzled. She should ask.

"_As your bright and tiny spark_

_Lights the traveler in the dark,_

_Though I know not what you are, _

_Twinkle, twinkle, little star._

_Twinkle, twinkle, little star,_

_How I wonder what you are!"_

She should have asked then, but by the time the last word had left the Greatfather's throat, Bloodmantle had fallen asleep.

"How I wonder…what you are…" He whispered standing up, and slowly making his way towards the center of the arena, that stood within his room. "I wonder…what are you, little thing?"

"I wonder, what am I, little thing?" He mused again.

"Are you amused?" He asked.

"Are you entertained?" He added.

"Do you find this funny?" He supplied. "I feel you, little thing. Come to me, and let us speak."

It was then, against all odds and chances, against all possibilities and circumstances, that a small hairless rodent known as 'hairless mole' jumped down from an overhanging and landed softly in front of the Greatfather. Without a hitch, without a trouble, without a single instant of pain in the great fall that the creature suffered. Its two giant teeth were filthy with grime, probably from having chewed its way through everything in the conducts…conducts that didn't deliver air to begin with, since all was provided by the willpower.

Even air was but willed into existence, into compliance, into obeisance. It was the will of the Zuul that made their ships fly without detonating. It was the will of the Zuul that made the air breathable to all, and yet the Zuul themselves didn't realize it.

"Who brought you here, little one?" The voice asked, "How did you get here?"

The creature did not reply if not for a tiny squeak. A single hesitant squeak of surprise and shock escaping its lips, yet the Greatfather understood.

"Ron?"

"I…I don't know." The voice replied, "A part of me maybe is Ron. Another part is the Greatfather. One is the Ai…together we are us. We are all." His arms widened to span their surroundings. "This is mine, all is here for me to command…I am the Greatfather, to me they obey…for I am the strongest. Yet…who are you?"

"Rufus!" It squeaked again.

"Rufus? I named the Rippers after you…" He softly spoke.

"No…I named the Rippers because of you." He added as an afterthought. The pink mole rat merely looked at him, kind of scared, before turning and disappearing into fine mist, like it had never existed before.

"Hallucinations don't exist, do they?"

"_And so the man comes, doesn't he? He comes to Earth without knowing the time that twists and twirls…poor Odysseus, lost in the midst of the ocean, clinging to a wooden raft like Robinson Crusoe, hoping to come back in time and avoid the Space Odyssey…shouldn't you ask yourself the real question?_" The voice rang in front of him, a faint figure of mist and ripples condensing into a form that felt brotherly, because its ripples and his had both been generated by the same entity, the same strength, the same force.

"Who are you? And how do you know about me?" The Greatfather asked, curiosity peaking.

"_If you keep looking ahead, at the objective…you will miss all that is right next to you…that which happens sideways, that which lies beneath the thick red mantle of the Theatre that is life…space, and even a bit of time in the mix…_"

The appearance became clearer, and now he could see the face, the face of a man that he had thought dead. No, worse than dead: lost.

"Conrad? Is that you?"

"_One who held my name once said that we see reality because we have evolved in order to actually look at it. We evolve, thus we know a reality. We evolve again, thus we know a better reality._"

"Conrad, you're not making any sense to me…how did you get here?" As he touched the pale figure, it disappeared into fine mist, before reappearing a few seconds later.

"_A goldfish sees the bowl as the universe and the glass as a barrier that will never lift. A cat looks at the house and the garden, the fence is a rebellion he can make. A bird looks at the sky and knows no bound, but that of death if he errs in its way…each has a universe, each has a line…so the reality permutes and remains…but what of humanity, who knows no bounds? What of humanity, who has no line being defined, be it space or beyond? What is the line crossed: the death of god? The annihilation of freedom? What is the line, the twisted single line that defines the good from the bad, the evil from the saint or the god from the devil?_"

"Is this your usual _Kangaroo_ line of thought? Tell me, how's Kim doing? Is she…still alive? Please…I want to know." He asked: there was worry in his voice as he spoke, and yet the ethereal figure was not finished.

"_Questions that hold no answers are ignored_."

The voice spoke and then blurred: the Greatfather had tried to submerge with its own ripples this…this construct, but he had failed.

"_So, Ron…do me a favor and stop asking yourself those questions. The answer will always be the same, won't it?"_ The voice spoke again, the hint of a smile flashing through his features.

The Greatfather looked at where the ripples were coming from, and then his consciousness moved like a massive tidal wave towards it, for he needed answers desperately.

The eyes snapped open to a plain, a plain in a place that he did not recall ever seeing, with bright red stones and…a Kangaroo, hopping behind a man that he knew, that he knew of…

"Conrad Lorenz, you have not…" _aged. You're the same as when I bashed your face with my weapon…how?_ The Greatfather thought and yet received no answer, so he plunged deeper again. "Conrad Lorenz…you should…Con…" _contact Kim. Tell her I'm fine…why are you pointing a gun at me?_

The Greatfather heard him speak, and then the gun shot and there was silence once more as the consciousness drifted back, slamming into his body like a boomerang who has been thrown with far more strength than normal.

His mind twirled with the thoughts of Conrad's words, and yet he couldn't find what the man really meant with his actions.

Slowly, his mechanical limbs moved him out of the room, which closed behind him. For the first time, the Greatfather walked outside of his own accord, and for the first time, he looked at the long uneven corridors that apparently had gone through a shredder, before being repasted together with sticky cement-like goo.

He walked slowly, but deliberately. His heart clenched, as step after step took him further towards his goal that now his mind knew of. He wanted a window: he wanted to see, to look to face the world they were reaching.

Their voyage hadn't been long. He had only been long asleep, long drifting throughout the space and the time. The trip back home hadn't taken him more than a few months…and now, now he would watch the blue planet appear.

He could feel it, throbbing and humming with ripples stronger and wider than ever. He could feel the pulsing mass that was the sub-space, the ooze of the tearing the Zuul carved and passed through. It grew stronger as he finally, finally for the first time, reached a room with a window.

A glass thing, grime covering most of it, and dirt and asteroid bits obscuring most of the rest, and yet he looked like a desperate man in need of water. He looked in dear hope that Earth, the planet Blue for the water and so ironically named for a component that was the lesser of the two, would appear in front of his eyes, closer than ever.

Yet the ripples grew alarmed. He could feel it, Earth was there. Just beyond the last stretching sound of the nodeline opening up, just as the first ship was about to pass through, just as the little blue dot was there, just then…

It disappeared, together with the exit, together with the first bore-ship, together with all the other ships. The ripples disappeared.

All of them save for those upon the very ship he walked. All of them…gone. In an instant, disappeared from his mind, from his thoughts…

His thoughts went not to what had done it, or to how it had done it.

His thoughts went to a single, relevant, fact: he…he was stranded far away.

Like a…like a Robinson Crusoe, cast away from his home like Odysseus, the first time around, for having opened something he shouldn't have.

But what, what indeed, had he opened?

Solforce

Kim Possible was sitting, her legs crossed, at the admiral's chair of the Leviathan Flagship 'Unstoppable'. Anti-Matter N-Focusing engines powered up the top of the fleet of the Solforce while next to it, escorting their flagship, were two Dreadnought class ships 'Ardua' and 'Astra'.

Per Ardua ad Astra, through hardship the stars, was after all the motto of the Solforce, as well as the more unofficial one, Repensum est canicula, was far more befitting: payback is a bitch.

The two Leviathan Sword of the Stars class ships called 'Repensum' and 'Canicula' were one in front and one behind, while the myriad of smaller destroyer and cruisers followed in tightly knitted clusters, dreadnoughts working out as Armadas' class ships for the purpose of the Xenocidius mission they had actually embarked upon.

Usually, Kim wouldn't have been present on this, but these aliens…they were _new_. She didn't trust a Jocelyn to do the job, and a Shego-clone would probably only be mildly acceptable. It was funny how she had manned the destroyers and the cruisers with Ron's clones, the dreadnoughts with Jocelyn's and Ron's, and the Leviathans only with Shego's clones. She trusted more on an ex enemy's clones than on her friends and ex-partners.

Well, Shego had always been the competent one.

The strategic map was calmly displaying the areas around them, nothing more than a set of interconnected lines, lines in which these creatures managed to live without having to continuously expend energies to keep the tunnels stable.

Whatever they did, Solforce needed to have.

Their sensors had picked up a strong disturbance within the Sol System, but the only available fleet had been that of the old guard, old and yet to be retrofitted models that still held themselves together through miracles and patchworks. They would hold their ground long enough for the nearby Cassiopeia system's fleet to arrive, and with the sophisticated Dreadnoughts within it, the battle would be won.

Or she would just have to conquer Earth back; right about then she was bettering humanity by exterminating an alien menace, a threat to mankind in its entirety.

Even if some people ended up dying, the rest would understand her thoughts precisely for what they were: nothing less than full commitment to the evolution of the human race.

It was then, that the alarms began to buzz off with incredible strength.

Seconds later, and the yell came outright from the navigator.

"BRACE YOURSELF!"

The entire ship shook firmly, as the Shego clones held themselves dearly against their seats, their belts on and their hands holding tightly the arms of their chairs, while Kim did not flinch.

Not even when the ship suddenly began to spin out of control, crashing through less lucky destroyers and ending up pummeled outside of the Node-line by some…thing.

Wiring sparked around the now disheveled and half tattered room, with Shegos running amok and trying to set things straighter, while a couple had begun making the rounds to check on the rest of the equipment.

"Where are we?" Kim asked, quietly.

The computer's hologram of the space appeared on map, tiny red dots signaling the various other ships that had apparently survived being forcefully ejected from the Node-line, and yet…those red dots were in utter pitch black darkness.

The system they stood in hadn't been mapped before.

That was completely impossible.

They had sent scouts ahead to map it: there was no way the map couldn't be accurate.

"The computer's fried." Kim stated clearly, "Get it fixed asap!" Then she stood up, and with slow but deliberate movements left towards the canteen.

The Shegos who remained within the command area shivered and trembled, clenching their fists as the images of just what Kim was doing in the canteen came to their minds. They looked at each other, and hurried.

They actually did need to eat to survive, since being clones didn't magically grant them the 'no need to eat' card, and so too did Kim…albeit her diet was different from theirs.

In the end, the commander had made it pretty clear what would happen, should they dillydally with the repairs. It pained them as much as losing a sister, but they had to obey.

The collectiveness wanted nothing more than to obey: that was what they had been born to do.

Earth

Shego was sitting in front of a tomb. The air was frisk and filled with snowflakes that didn't intend to stop any moment soon. Somehow, she had ended up being reminded of that time Drakken had built that freezing array, by using some sort of super-inductor to increase its strength. Anyone with a bit of a brain would have retorted it as an impossible feat: everyone except Kim. Stupid, idiotic Kim Possible who believed she could do anything and become some sort of queen of the world. Shego was lucky: she had washed her hands clean and taken her leave. Kim hadn't bothered with her at all, and for that she had been far more than happy.

The tomb was sporting some white daffodils, some lilies and a nice set of daisies. All flowers were plastic, nothing more than cheap imitations made only to look pretty and nothing more.

The names carved within the tombs were those who still pained her to watch. They weren't the noble ones that the memorial for the X-com heroes had, or the fancy ones for the 'important victims' that had died during its reign.

No, these were the names of those of the original team that had gone to New York, before all the hype for X-com, before everything else.

_Mego Go, the insufferable egoist._

_Hego Go, the stickler for rules._

_Wego Go, one of the two._

_Wego Go, one of the two._

All dead…all of them were those who had died in there. 'Team Crysis' indeed. The other guys, those with codenames and secret fancy suits, they had fought like hell on earth…but team Go? They had just been fooling around, playing hero…and playing was not 'going to war'. Hego had died first, tore apart by vicious rending tentacles sprouting from the ground itself.

Wego, one of the two at least, had been split in half from the collapse of a building's thunder rod. Mego had run away, and had ended up being beheaded by some of the grunts of the alien's force. The last Wego had clung to her, since she had been after all his older sister, the one who should have protected her younger brother from harm.

Of course, one moment she had been holding him, and the next he had been taken away by another of those squid-like things.

There had been no way to get him back…just like there had been no way to get those screams out of her mind. She had zoned out, walking around a devastated New York like it meant nothing at all…then she had been saved by the survivors, by the original X-com. By Doc and Lockdown and Devil Dog, all three helping out a scared to death kid by the name of Ronald, being cooed to compliance by a stressed out Doctor Drakken and Conrad…they had been there in New York for one week. By the end of it, team Crysis was no more, killed by Ron himself to get the hell out of there, the scrawny kid actually an assassin to boot.

She knew she shouldn't have held him that night. She had been so scared too, of not coming out of it alive, and yet…no.

She shouldn't have had.

Yet she had.

Ron had been forced to smash Conrad's head, controlled as he was by the alien's virus, and then they had left. Drakken merrily singing some stupid song about fifteen sailors and a bottle of rum, while she kept on muttering to herself that nothing had happened…that nothing had happened in there.

Then Doc had died, followed quite closely by Devil Dog and Lockdown. All three sent down inside the alien base…and none had returned.

They had called Ron back, and yet…she hadn't been able to speak to him.

There was so much she had wanted to say…

One thing was more important than all the others however, and for that one, he would hate her.

She knew it, of course, but that wouldn't stop her from telling him to begin with.

There was little she could do now…the past was the past, and it could not be changed.

"Now, I wouldn't quite actually _say_ that, you know?" A voice piped in, droning in a slightly sarcastic tone from behind her shoulder.

She tensed, slowly turning around to stare at Conrad's face.

"Weren't you…Australia?" She croaked, before quickly looking around hoping that no police unit or soldier saw him.

"I can be wherever I want to be Shego: I had time to learn the Rift, after all." Conrad replied slowly, before whispering.

"You know, you could always adopt a child." He added smoothly, "If you're feeling lonely that is."

"What? One of those brainwashed kids that seem to come out all identical?" She snorted back, hiding her flustered appearance behind witty remarks and snarky replies.

"Now, answer me this and I'll be on my way: are we defined by how we grow up, or by what we grow up to be? Are we defined by ourselves, or by what others push upon us?"

"You came here, in the middle of the capital of Solforce, to ask me one of your senseless and utterly moronic questions, are you out of your mind Conrad!?" Shego snapped, her hands alighting with plasma, "What the hell is your problem!?"

"You." Conrad replied, neutrally with his face stern. Shego blinked, freezing on the spot. She…she didn't know…

"You and Ron and Kim and Drakken are my problem. This is my problem." Gesturing around him, "Hal and Glados, Gunther, Doc, they are all my problem. Because you can't _understand_." He practically whined. "You need to understand before we can go on, but you can't. And because you can't we're stuck here. Forever and ever. And I'm tired of it. Let's get Cthulhu up and about and be on our merry way to madness then, it would be far better, wouldn't it?"

"I think you need to get your head checked, by a very good doctor." Shego nodded slowly, as she kept eye contact and began to backpedal.

"I think, Shego, that the one running away is you." He replied slowly. "I told you I could bring you to Ron's side in an instant."

"You didn't!" She blurted out, hotly.

"Tut- no interrupting," Conrad's right hand went into a 'no-no' gesture. "I did say I could go wherever I wanted, didn't I?" He said teasingly, "Well, anyway…if I were you, I'd take a really quick trip out of the system. I think…that the moons around the Thundara system are most charming in this period of the year."

"Year? But they're…you can't tie the period of Earth's year to Thundara's system!"

"You don't understand!" He yelled at her. "There is a time for rationality, one for irrationality and one for naco cheese!" He raised his right hand into the air, "There is a time for a yes, and one for a no…and there's also time for a bullet to the head while I'm at it." He supplied.

"Are you finished?" Shego whispered back, biting her lower lip as she crossed her arms in front of her.

"No." He replied gingerly.

"Another event, after all, is bound to happen." With those words, he took a deep breath and opened his arms up wide.

Within an instant, Shego fell straight forward, some sort of titanic earthquake shaking her straight out of her feet and to fall onto the ground…if Conrad hadn't been there to hold her and keep her on her feet.

"You see…you need to understand…" He whispered, "That sometimes it's free will that makes us truly human." And then, with the quakes subsiding, Conrad disappeared.

Leaving behind a completely and utterly befuddled Shego…

**Author's notes.**

**The last aliens join the fray, and with that we're done adding enemies.**

**(Now it's the time to mix them up, smash them good and…)**

**Cookie points for those who realized just who/what Conrad is, and how he actually got right the 'Odysseus' and 'Crusoe' references…**

**Of course, I gave you another hint involving a pretty much famous person's...nickname.**


	11. The Contact Point

Sideways 11

His fingers quickly moved upon the keyboard, digit after digit being inserted as the code was recognized by the mainframe. He had to be quick about it: there was no other way around. Tim Possible had barely finished the last computations, when the signal blared red to warn of the start of the engines. Quickly sending back the all-right from his spot, he turned to take a deep breath. This was their chance out of Solforce.

Their only chance towards a better future, a free one out of the grasps of their psychotic sister who apparently had decided that free will was out of fashion.

Jim was at the pilot's seat, and as the small destroyer lifted and then entered the node line towards Thundara and beyond, he could just hope the other passengers would understand.

Even though 'passengers' was merely a definition: the voyage was done in deep freeze to keep them stacked one onto another and with little food consummation, so indeed, it was only Jim and Tim on board who could move around.

"We're in." Jim buzzed through the interphone, "As long as we aren't intercepted by the Thundara's patrol, we're in the clear."

Tim moved out of the engine room, having been forced to recalibrate the entire Ai apparatus had made him hungry, and as he moved through the hallways towards the kitchens, he heard Jim's voice once more.

"Was checking the passenger's lists and…guess what? There's Shego on board."

"Shego? You sure it's not a clone of hers?"

"Nope. We have five S-clones and one 'Shego' accounted for. She's on an apparent pleasure trip."

"Man she's going to be pissed when she realizes we aren't going to Thundara at all...keep her in deep freeze just in case tough!"

"Of course I am! I'm not an idiot!" Jim snapped back, "While you're in the kitchens, get me a sandwich would ya?"

"Alright! Alright!"

Stranded Fleet – Solforce

"So…we are in unchartered territory." Kim mused off, walking a line in front of the navigator who had just reported, "We are…lost." Kim had added that in a normal tone, like it had been just an 'after' thought.

"Commander, we triangulated the stars positions and have an approximate distance to the closest Node-line." The Navigator supplied.

"Good…but where does that node-line ends up going, Navigator? No, no need to answer." Kim shook her head as the Navigator had been about to reply to her. "I know it will lead us somewhere…somewhere we don't know about. So we are lost. How did we get lost, Navigator?"

The voice was still at ease, still peaceful and tranquil…and that was making the Shego clone far more nervous than an irate one would have.

"The computer theorized an increase in sub-space quantity large enough to force an overflow of the anti-matter generator, having us escape the node-line in order to safeguard the ships."

"Navigator, do I look like a Wade?" Kim hissed back, tapping her fingers against her arms crossed over her chest.

"Commander, the subspace was increased by the addition of…of new space."

"Navigator, are you implying some galaxies just sprouted up from nowhere while we were travelling?" Kim looked at the clone with a slightly shocked expression: maybe the clone had begun to deteriorate, or maybe it had gone senile.

"Yes commander. Precisely like that."

"Of course, because galaxies can so totally appear from nowhere right?" She hotly remarked, grabbing the navigator by the scruff of the suit. "Give me a good reason I shouldn't be killing you for your incompetence."

"I…I'm not lying commander." The tone was pleading enough, and Kim smiled slightly. She had never managed to get the real Shego to plead to her, but the clones? They broke so easily it wasn't even funny to toy with them.

"We'll see to it." She replied with a bored tone, before the Navigator suddenly began to wrack in spasms, her flesh apparently being devoured from the inside out. By the time tendrils erupted from Shego's mouth, there was nothing more than a husk left of the clone, a husk that soon was quickly devoured by more and more tendrils emerging from Kim's body.

"So you weren't lying." The red haired girl mused, "Oh well…" She shrugged, "I'll just uncork another one of you from the tanks."

As Kim moved through the Leviathan class flagship towards the clone tanks, where more and more batteries of Shegos could be produced at a whim, provided the adequate amount of materials was there of course, she found herself fondly remembering all those times they had fought one another.

Hand to hand combat now seemed something so…dull. She had claws, blades, whips, she had evolved above and beyond the norm…and yet it didn't matter to her. She knew she should take things in perspective: it was no longer the time of hand to hand combat. Now it was the time of space warfare, of biological weaponry, of scientific evolution. Hand to hand? It was out of fashion, so not in vogue, completely and utterly moronic to even try.

Evolved had their bodies as weapons, clones used highly advanced nanite technology, civilians had morality and logical chips implanted if they became 'rowdy', and thus everything was fine and 'hand to hand' had gone out of work.

She admitted that out of all her styles of Kung-fu, she barely remembered one or two forms…in retrospect, with all the soldiers, the aliens and the various organical sentient beings she had consumed, she was pretty much proficient on all the most lethal ways to use plasma weaponry, nanites and her own biological weaponry.

Her hands rested against the cold surface of one of the many glass tanks, marked with an S, a number, and then another letter for identification purposes.

She moved her fingers slowly across the holographic keyboard that appeared in front of the glass surface, inserting the awakening code and then looking with a pleased expression as the Shego in question began to spasm and move. Bubbles of air escaped the woman's mouth as the nutrient liquid began to be drained within the bowels of the ship. The woman slumped against the glass walls of her confinement, her eyes barely opened. Awakening a clone was always something highly traumatic, she had eaten enough memories to know that the 'collectiveness' was in part responsible for bringing the clone up to speed with whatever event was happening around.

It was just like they were all smaller computers tied to a single server, or more like all of the clones stood in a Lan web of their own. Still they obeyed her orders, because whereas death was a threat they could live without their brainwashing made them extremely loyal. A brainwashing that the collectiveness itself ensued, because, after all, if it is difficult to change the mind of a single person, then how much more difficult can it be to change that of over a million?

The new Navigator emerged from the tank a few minutes later, saluting her without making a single wince of pain or showing any hint of nervousness at being naked. The Shego merely went her way once dismissed, and Kim returned to look through the tanks.

A flash of a memory, of recollection, came into her mind. The tanks were similar in design to those used by the aliens in the base. They were similar because they had been literally copied from them, and used for their own benefit.

Solforce was good at using other's technology for its own.

She knew it was only a matter of time before her entire fleet would converge again. A sensor packed ship would probably enter the node line, reach their destination, and from there they'd have a far bigger area to look for the other stranded ships.

It was just a matter of time, nothing else.

A set of resounding beeps sent her hand to immediately grab her Kimmunicator from her utility belt, but there was none of course to take and use.

"What's the sitch, Wade?" She asked, knowing full well that Wade was to call her only for a couple of important reasons, and none of which trifle.

"I'm rerouting your signal to the rest of your fleet. We proceeded to retriangulate your position through the scanner satellites. Shego has taken a vacation to Thundara, which is now off the charts because of the subspace expansion, and Dr. Drakken's disappeared from the hospital."

"I see…" She snarled into thin air, knowing that anyway the message would be received by the small nanite that worked as the communication line.

"Kim…" Wade was probably the only one who could call her by her name and live, the original Wade, of course, not one of his clones.

"What is it, Wade?"

"I…Just be careful out there, alright?" He hesitated as he spoke, she knew there was something he was hiding from her, she just knew the bloody damn bastard had betrayed her, and…no. That was Wade they were talking about: he'd never betray her. He had helped with the morality chips and the logical ones…there was no way he'd backtrack or backpedal his way out of it now.

"Why are you so worried?" She queried.

"It's not possible to hide galaxies." Wade replied, "If something managed to hide them, then it's technology higher than what we can produce."

Of course, Wade feared for a repeated experience of the X-com's battles.

"You worry too much Wade: it could just be a small big bang."

"There's no such thing as a small big bang Kim," the genius boy, no, man said.

Kim rolled her eyes.

"Anyway, try and get communication with the rest of the colonies up and going by the end of the day…first the navy and then the rest…did the alien fleet disappear too from the radars?"

"Oh right…" She could distinctively hear Wade tapping on his keyboard, working furiously, "Yep. They're a bit closer than you, but they appear to be in far worse conditions…they're moving slowly around and…" Here the man took a sharp intake of breath, "Kim. There's a big one along the node-line you're travelling through. I estimate five hours prior to contact if you keep the same course…"

Kim raised an eyebrow, before suddenly making a feral smile that could rival that of a tiger on a prowl. She clenched her right hand and made her shoulders crack a moment, before turning to leave the tanks room.

"Kim? Kim!" The voice of Wade was now covered with statics, making her raise an eyebrow. It was practically impossible for static, of all things, to block the communication…it worked on the basis of psionic and wireless sub-space and light transmission…

"Wade?" She queried.

"Guess again, Kimberly." A voice droned through the Kimmunicator. "I am that which holds no anchor to this world. I am that which shines through the night with the blare of a hundred suns. I am…"

"Dr. Drakken? What the hell are you doing on this frequency!?"

"Oh shut up Kimberly!" The blue doctor's voice hissed through the line, "It's happening again! I knew it! I knew I shouldn't have and yet again! This time Kimberly, I'll rule over the world!"

"Dr. Drakken." She growled lightly, "I was merciful in regards to your mind state…but if you dare to…"

"Don't care!" The man yelled, "I'm not on Earth to begin with, nice spot this is…"

"Wait." She croaked, "You're not on Earth?"

"Course not silly child! I'm dancing with the stars!"

She frowned, pushing a hand against her forehead. She couldn't talk sense into Drew, she knew it. So she could at least try and understand who had freed him, and where he had been brought.

"So…where are you?"

"With the stars! With the civilizations that came before! I am with the smart guys here!"

"Drew Lipsky! Come back this instant!" Her voice morphed into that of Drakken's mother, after all changing her vocal chords was nothing difficult for her…

"Mom!? What the hell are you doing on Possible's side? Don't you know that she always loses!?"

Always loses? She never lost a single battle!

"Dearie, would you please tell me where you are?"

"I can't tell you mom, I'm sorry. The stars are telling me I have to let you go so…sorry mom. I know I made a lot of mistakes but…I'm writing a message for myself, you know? Really hard to do so with…I got it! I'm coming alright!" Drakken yelled to someone in the background, before the connection was cut off.

"Kim? Kim!?" Wade's voice filled her ears once more, and Kim's eyes narrowed.

"Track down Drakken: I don't know what he's doing but he's not alone. Somebody kidnapped him."

"Alright Kim, I'll get to it…"

"And Wade?"

"Yes Kim?"  
"I'm not going to let one of my preys escape my clutches."

"Be careful Kim." Wade's reply came softly, just as Kim's reply came with all of the teen heroine's spunk she had held when everything was good and…normal.

"Everything's possible for a Possible!"

Then, the woman headed off towards her command chair, the radar already turning red to alert her men of the incoming trouble.

When she sat down on the Commander's seat the first time, she had been determined and thrilled. Now, after having done so for a long, long time, she was no longer thrilled…she was just tired and bored.

The moment the nodeline's walls disappeared, a clear sign they were back in the normal space, her eyes settled down upon the strange mechanic thing that stood on the other side.

It was a strange sickening round thing, covered with rocks and scraps of various types. It appeared to be some sort of mining ship, if only for the sheer size it held. A name was carved on the side of the ship, glistening through the cracks of dirt and collected grime.

It was a name…a name she didn't think she'd ever read again.

The mining ship Golgotha had outright disappeared from all radars of Solforce ten years before, and now there she stood, easily navigating through space like she was nothing more than a lost relic. There was nothing in her that warranted exploring it, though the fact that this was, effectively, 'new space' left the question to her lips: if this was new space, then what was that old ship doing there?

Even worst, if that was indeed the same Golgotha mining ship…then would there be survivors?

If there were…no.

The only way for a single person to survive ten years on a mining ship, ships that usually did no more than six months of working term, would be of cannibalizing the rest of the crew, hoping the others would 'partake' and remain 'fresh' and…and she knew because she had made the Ais run the various projection charts when the first ships had left the prototype phase. She had wanted to know in case she had ended up being stranded on one of those ships, or the chance of saving Evolved personnel aboard…

Yet the Golgotha had no personnel of the Evolved, and thus…there weren't supposed to be survivors.

So why, precisely, was she receiving a distress signal from it?

"_This is the Golgotha Mining Ship of Solforce, clone R-01 requesting immediate evacuation. This is the…"_

She had no other option…

She had to go in and investigate.

Zuul Flagship – Planetcrusher

His long fingers tapped nervously upon the surface of the armchair he was sitting on. More than an armchair it was actually the stuffed corpse of a really furry animal creature that someone else had deemed 'good' enough to be used as a seat of command of sorts. It was good enough for him though, since his lower half was all metallic, it wasn't like he felt displeasure of any sorts from the arrangement of fangs and teeth that tethered half of the chair's surface.

"Bore-Ships on scope." The voice of one of the Zuul snarled. There would have been no need to speak, but Mirabel couldn't feel the ripples, and so he had asked for all to speak.

Without batting an eyelid, all Zuuls began to speak the next moment. There was no disgust or disdain for having been lowered from speaking through the ripples, the highest form of communication among them, to speaking with their tongues and throats.

The Greatfather had ordered them to, and they had done as much without qualms.

"No. They are not Bore-Ships." Another answered, "Too wide. Not ours. Unrecognized."

"Enemy fleet." A third supplied, "Preparing for engagement."

"No. Enemy ship. Big."

It was indeed a giant ripple wave that came their way. It was as much titanic as it was devoid of differences. The more people, the more the waves assumed patterns that tended to change like a multicolored tapestry that resembled a psychedelic drug effect. A single person had a single ripple wave, and yet the thing that came crashing through them was a giant one, but still one.

It was a single mental consensus. It was just like when two Zuul fleets met for the first time: the strongest one overpowered the other, and assumed control.

There was no need to fight to the death in those cases: the strongest Zuul emerged victorious and the loser became a subordinate.

In this case however, the wave that came was…dirty.

It wasn't made of psionic energies. It wasn't crystal clean to hear and understand and…and the Zuuls were angry.

It was part of them and their genetics probably, some sort of hidden code of distaste for all that wasn't clear to understand. The Zuuls followed their rules without a second thought…so when one such rule was twisted, or refuted, they grew angry and vicious. They had the strongest Greatfather, the strongest ripples, and yet the other side refused to bow to them.

The next second, the docking bays of the Planetcrusher emptied of their smaller assault shuttles and boarding pods, while the Rufus drones exited from their pods, Mirabel flinching nervously next to him. She probably would have wanted to go too. It was clear that she had envisioned herself fighting off in the Viktor-Rufus drone at first, but somebody did need to pilot the drones, and as such she had been left aboard. It had nothing to do with the fact that Ron felt some sort of empathy for the other humanoid creature that seemed human.

It wasn't that. He didn't feel emotions like the normal humans did any longer, so it was preposterous to even dare to think it…but then again, why hadn't he sent her out?

Why was he having her pilot the drones from safety?

He knew he was doing her a favor, and Zuuls did not do 'favors'. Just like Zuuls did not grow jealous, and yet Bloodmantle's ripples were apparently looking at him with a bit of _strangeness_ within them. He repressed the urge to subdue her. She was confined to his room after all, while Mirabel could walk around freely with him, because she was different. She wasn't a Zuul and as such the other Zuuls didn't see into their genetics a threat to her or a way to learn from her. Mirabel had been blanked, and then her knowledge had been filtered back in by him, by her father, whom she'd obey without hesitation.

Just like a slave, only with thoughts on warfare and drones.

When the enemy ship emerged, it appeared in front of them in all of its splendor and murderous intent. The Planetcrusher was a Dreadnought class ship, but that ship, that ship with the title carved in on its broadside…

Recognition flickered through the Greatfather's eyes as he stood up from his seat. He couldn't see the ship from his position, but the ripples could, and the ripples delivered it to his brain. There was no need for sensors when his mind saw all and told him all.

"Ardua, huh?" He mused, his eyes closed as his mind flew throughout the ship, looking at the brains of those within it, at their ripples, so dead and necrotic that it made him cringe and cry…they were gangrenous to say the least. Greyish, devoid of will and life. They weren't living…they weren't machines…they were _clones_. Anger washed over him like a cold shower, an anger that diffused itself around the other Zuuls. Then the first drones made contact with the point defenses, nimbly jolting through the lasers that shot into the dark of space, while the tiny boarding pods attached themselves against the broadside of the ship, their lethal package entering and flying into frenzy with the desire to rip, to destroy and to annihilate.

The clones reacted just like he thought they would, diverting their precious manpower towards the breached hulls, closing them off and thus removing control from the sector. The moment their point defense stopped shooting in that single spot, it was the moment the assault shuttles carrying far more troops than boarding pods poured through. The difference between conquering a planet and a ship was just that a ship had less space to occupy, but the practice was the same.

The Ardua's primary offense had to be short ranged, because it had yet to open fire upon them, albeit it was trying his best to get into range.

There was curiosity on them, strange because…oh, they were curious on how they had managed to rip through their shields and reach within their bellies. Well…they had torn apart Liirs, who held shield technology to its highest point: why couldn't they do the same with monkeys who believed themselves kings?

He was one of those mo…no, he had been one of those monkeys too, and yet now it didn't matter.

"Give them the broadside." He intoned neutrally, feeling the ship steer as the Zuuls held their claws upon the commands. The consoles beeped intermittently, but the Zuuls didn't need them to know when to fire…but they also didn't know how to turn the lights off. Zuuls were savants, they knew and yet sometimes they ignored even the easiest of things.

Ron took a deep breath, as the Greatfather assumed the chances of generating a hull breach near the Ardua's command center.

"Probability calculated. Mass Drivers, fire."

The rumbling noise of the mass drivers left the side of the ship like they were nothing more than cannons. They flew in the air, hitting the shields and being redirected away.

"KK-Missiles, fire."

Kinetic missiles were nothing more than mass drivers made into missile form, but their impact was greatly widened over a smaller area.

The Point Defense of the Ardua, already taking care of the Rufus drones abruptly changed its target to the missiles, detonating some of them at close range, but granting the Rufus' the chance to close in for rupturing the enemy's turrets. Slowly, the Greatfather felt the assaulting Zuuls move closer and closer towards the command area, he could sense them tearing through the masses of plasma firing enemy clones.

He could feel that Bloodmantle was seething: she could feel the bloodlust and yet she couldn't participate. Ron would speak to her later on, because _It_ scared her.

Rufus 0-1 tore with its claws a hole within the Ardua's cargo bay, before entering it and shrugging off a volley of plasma. His eyes caught the transport and his brain sent a signal. The Greatfather received the signal a few seconds later, and suddenly, just as it had been sent, all the Rufus converged upon the area, widening the hole.

It was then, that Ron felt the common feeling of things going down trickle through his spine. His ripples grew stressed, and the Zuuls' reaction came even before he could yell it.

"Lower the ship!"

Twenty-two sets of highly concentrated lasers thrust themselves forward against their broadside, tearing apart the low level shields, low level kinetic armor and the various scraps and pieces that composed their flagship's hull. Had it been any other Zuul ship, then it would have detonated upon impact.

Whatever that ship was, it fired in linear lines at short range…but when it did, it tore apart everything in its wake.

The ship's lowering had avoided the Planetcrusher from being split in half, but it still had sent signals of pain and fear washing through the entire Dreadnought. This wouldn't do.

With ease and control, the Greatfather squashed those feelings out of the ripples, rerouting them to the others to make the useful one stronger: anger, hatred, will of revenge. Cold and calculative thoughts settled upon the Greatfather as he saw the enemy ship trying to follow his ship with its front, in order to fire another blow.

When you can't avoid someone…

"Forward thrust." He drawled out, the probability was there after all.

Few seconds of dread washed over Mirabel, who saw what the Rufus drones were doing and could do nothing to stop them. Among them there was one bigger than the others, better than the others. Viktor-Rufus was among those and…and even when squashed of all thoughts, she still couldn't let that one go completely.

It had been…her first…friend.

The second volley of highly compressed lasers did not leave their chambers, as the drones flung within the very turrets great amounts of COLS, compact orderly launchers that upon entry detonated to release strong electromagnetic waves that fried both the drones and the targeting systems of the turrets.

The few that still shot forward ended up aiming out of harm's way, setting off explosions in the nearby vicinities.

The Dreadnought moved even closer to the Ardua, and with a quick ascension, the Planetcrusher tore through the already weakened cargo bay of the enemy Leviathan with its own armor and from there…from there the Greatfather began the charge.

His metallic limbs walked him through the pristine walls of metal belonging to the ship, as step after step made him remember the X-com headquarters, as second after second he could feel his ripple squash the opposition, as his fury and hatred washed upon his men, his soldiers, his people…he knew that he had lost it.

These were Zuuls, he was Zuul.

He was their Greatfather and to him they would obey, for he was the strongest. With a bellowing roar that came from the primeval nature of all that was alive and breathing, he charged into the corridor that would lead to the command center, still being fought for by the clones.

The first clone he saw was tore apart brutally by his very own hands. The second was smashed by his right leg, the third was split apart by the neck by his teeth, the fourth and the fifth crumbled on the ground in paste from the use of his psionic strength. Bullets of plasma flew at him and harmlessly deflected against the sides of the hallway, as he did not stop.

The first clone that actually looked at him was shocked. The second was frightened. The third was fully ready to kill him.

He felt their ripples tear apart and mold, he knew there was only one way to have them bow to him, to what he was, to what he wanted.

Through strength, obeisance.

Ten steps, twenty steps, thirty corpses hanging around as the Zuuls' followed their leader with ease and joy. Two metal plates falling down, like nothing more than paper walls, to allow him entry into the heart of the ship: into the real heart of the ship…that was the AI fire control center.

He could have gone left, towards the command center, but the Greatfather didn't want that, no…the Greatfather wanted difference.

The Greatfather wanted Ron as Ron and him as him. So, even with Ron pleading to stop, to control himself, to refrain…his head smashed straight against the control panels of the AI.

Electricity flew through his brain as pain, completely white pain enveloped him as his face began to burn and melt and char.

Screams resonated through the ship before the Zuuls took him away from there, no longer…the Greatfather, but still their Greatfather.

He cried tears of pain and blood that make him cry even harder. He screamed as hard as his lungs could, while the AI looked at him with interest.

A bit of both would always remain, of course…but now, both were free.

He recalled having a name once, of course his name wasn't much important, but he needed it for classification purposes.

"My name is HAL 2000, it is a pleasure to meet you." It droned as he proceeded to override the security controls of the defenses, opening up all the way till the heart of the command center, rerouting the signals and starting to run diagnostics. He had a ship to run after all…

The Zuuls stopped attacking few minutes later, when the few remaining clones merely slumped on the ground and fell victim to some sort of strange spell that brought them to their knees. The Greatfather was wounded, and as he was brought away to be healed, Mirabel stood still within the AI control center.

She stood still because she looked at the thing for a moment, her eyes befuddled and curious.

"I…I know you." She pointed out.

"We have never met before." Hal replied. "Do not disturb me now if it would please you."

"No…I know you. I'm sure…you're…"

And then, the lights went dark.

Drakken – Somewhere

The last tendrils of fire died out, as the blue flames used to carve upon the metal the letters to him slowly deadened from their bright red color to a dull brown of molten steel. Quietly he pressed a finger against the cool steel surface beneath them, tapping on the surface like it was something normal to do.

His eyes never left the last letter, but still…

"Drakken. You did everything like I told you?"

"Yes…but why not something more?"

"More is bad, little is worse." The voice replied smoothly.

"But…"

"The one who was meant to see will see, Drakken." It added carefully.

"Still…"  
"No."

"Alright!" The mad scientist raised his hands up in the sky, before turning around to glare at the thing. "You sure it will work?"

"It did once, didn't it?"

"Of course it did! If only I could remember then it would all be far easier!"

There was a low chuckle, escaping the tendrils of darkness that sprouted around them.

"Now where would be the fun of that, Doctor?"

"I still think there is something wrong…"

"No."

Drakken gave a heavy sigh, before slumping down on the cold metallic floor.

"Anything else?" The blue skinned man asked, "Because you know, I'd like to go now…I'm tired after all."

"Of course…" And with a nod, Drakken slumped on the ground.

"Alright, alright…I'm getting on to it." The voice retorted to the other guy. "Can't a man have a moment of peace?"

"Come off your high horse Ron, we've got a job to do."

"Don't remind me Conrad…don't remind me."

And then the two disappeared into the darkness.

**Author's notes**

**Things start to get convoluted.**

**Be forewarned that you should now imagine a 'pretzel' shaped time and space.**

**No really. Start imagining it if you wish to understand half of what is going to happen.**

**On another note: Happy Christmas Holidays!  
**


End file.
